


Underneath the Weirwood Tree

by CaptainStaniel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sorry Not Sorry, Wet Dream, green dreams, i really have no idea where im going with this, jojen is really awkward, more characters later - Freeform, so is bran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainStaniel/pseuds/CaptainStaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dreaming of a green eyed boy for months Bran finally meets him, although he's not at all what he's been expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is puberty, get over it

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom so sorry if it sucks. I got bored. And there isn't enough Brojen out there. Tell me if you like it. I'll try to update normally but...yeah. Sorry about that shitty summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so I've started and finished the edit to this story so far. So if you haven't read this story yet, go you! If you have, feel free to reread. You don't really have to, I only added some things. But yeah, enjoy.

_The fire in the hearth crackled and burned, heating the small homely room in an orange glow. Not that the two figures intertwined with each other on the bed needed the extra warmth. The two young men were still sweating, coming down from their post sex high still pressing kisses against each others skin, tasting sweat and dirt but it didn’t matter._

_Nimble fingers danced down Bran’s side, tracing patterns into the smooth skin of his hip. Lips followed the fingers, kissing Bran’s lips slowly, tasting them with his tongue, before moving down to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Bran was out of breath by the time the kisses reached his hipbone. His fingers gripped the blond hair tight, lifting his face up to look into clouded green eyes._

_“If you want me to stop--”_

_“No,” Bran smiled and leaned up on his forearms. He couldn’t believe this gorgeous man belong to him, heart and soul. “No. I don’t ever want you to stop.” Before he knew it he was being kissed again, pushed deep into the fluffy pillows behind him._

_“Then I will never, ever stop.”_

An annoying jingle startled Bran out of his dream before it could go any further. Without looking he disabled the alarm on his phone, his face still pressed into his pillow.

It was six-thirty in the morning and while he might not be able to form coherent thoughts, he definitely could remember that dream in vivid detail. The heat of the fire against his skin, the smell of the sweat that dripped lazily down his chest, the taste of salt and something else, how deep the other man’s voice was, how green his eyes were. He could bring up all of those sensations without even trying to. It became a second nature to him.

“Dammit, not that dream again,” Bran sighed, rubbing his eyes groggily. Mossy green eyes. Soft pink lips. Sandy blond hair. Bran never knew he had a type but if his dreams meant anything to him...

He didn't know the boy's name--although sometimes the boy was a man, with lean muscles and solemn eyes like he was in the last dream. Every time it was spoken it was barely clear, like trying to listen to someone talk while you're underwater and they're sitting at the surface, even when Bran was the one saying it. It was as if his subconscious didn’t want him to know the identity of the man who plagued his dreams at night.

He sat up in bed, combing through his long auburn hair with his fingers, trying to get the recent dream out of his head. To no avail, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’s used to having weird dreams, ones that come true, ones that can’t come true, but these dreams...these dreams are taking its toll on him. And his sheets.

He can still taste that mouth, those familiar soft lips, almost like he’s already tasted them before. It was all lodged into his memory, permanently there, and he couldn’t get rid of it even if he tried. He knew was impossible to know what the person tasted like since he’s never kissed anyone in his life. But he knew those lips, they were soft and warm and they kissed him like it was his last night alive. Bran’s fingers trembled as they ghosted over his lips, trailed down his neck, and across his collarbone, just like those lips did in his dreams. But it wasn’t the same, not even close. He didn’t need to go any lower judging from the uncomfortable wetness between his legs.

Sighing forlornly he lay back down, staring up at the chipped white ceiling.

He wanted to go back to sleep. He only felt at peace in his dreams. They gave him comfort when no one else could. He once tried to chase them away with medicine. But he's stopped that now. They were a part of him. Even the ones with the very attractive blond boy felt like something only for him.

But a lot of times _those_ dreams usually end with him aching and messing up his sheets.

Speaking of sheets...he needs to change his. Gods, he felt like a twelve year old who just discovered porn.

He could hear his siblings trampling around above him. Sansa was taking a shower, Rickon was running down the stairs, and Arya was probably still asleep. He didn’t want to get up.

 _It's Friday_ , he reminded himself. _One more day._

Summer had noticed he was awake and had jumped up on his bed, nudging Bran’s arm with his nose, whining happily. Bran smiled and playfully ruffled Summer’s ears. “Good morning.” Summer just looked at him but it seemed like he understood what he had said. Summer was just smart like that.

His large wolf-like dog licked his cheek just as Rickon started to pound at his door.

“Bran! Wake up!” Rickon never opened his door in the mornings, choosing to yell and shout instead of being civilized.

“I’m awake.” Bran sat up and pulled his heavy quilts off. He frowned down at his forever still legs.

After the accident that caused him to lose the use of his legs he would to wake up every morning and hope that it was all a dream. He thought that this was another weird dream, like the ones he started getting after he woke up after the accident. But with his mom crying and his siblings hesitant to be around him he soon realized that it wasn’t. He let his mom pray for him and Old Nan tell him stories even though he hated it. He felt weak and useless just sitting there unable to do anything but stare out the window. It only got better when he finally snapped and told them all to stop babying him.

Yeah, he didn’t use those words but still. (More along the lines of, "If you all don't stop treating me like I'm dying, _I'll jump out the fucking window!")_

"Bran, are you getting dressed?" His mother's voice called from the other side of the door. He heard her silent _Do you need help?_ and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, mum."

"Okay, breakfast will be ready soon." He heard her footsteps all the way to the kitchen.

Bran started to strip out of his clothes, grimly yanking off his cotton shorts. His legs were so pale and hairless, like a girls. He took his _Don't Fight The Music_ sleeping shirt off, balled it up, and tossed it in the hamper across the room.

Heh, three points.

His school clothes were on his nightstand. He put them on with barely any trouble. He’s mastered pulling pants on by laying down by now.

Bran leaned over and pulled his wheelchair over to his bedside. With practiced ease he sat himself in the chair and pulled his afghan over his lap, tucking in the sides. He never had to maneuver around anything in his room. Everything, his bookshelves, his table, and everything else that could be, was pushed against his walls, leaving nothing to get in the way of his chair like he was incompetent.

When he entered the kitchen, his mom was making breakfast. She always made breakfast even though they had help for that. She smiled affectionately at him. "Good morning, Bran. How did you sleep?"

"Fine." He smiled easily. He loved his mother so much, even though she still babied him.

Arya came down as he rolled to the table. She slumped into the table, looking horrible.

Bran elbowed her after some consideration. "I thought you said you were going to get some sleep." Arya had said she wouldn't stay up and play video games all night with her boyfriend but by the looks of it she had done just that.

"I look like shit. I know. But I don’t regret anything!" She was about to tell Bran about the new map she and Gendry discovered but their mother interrupted her.

"Language, Arya!" Their mom glare at her youngest daughter, striking the fear of Catelyn Stark into her, with her large blue Tully eyes.

"Sorry..." she muttered but Bran knew she wasn’t sorry at all.

Bran smirked at her. Catelyn put food on their plates. Rickon and Sansa sat down. Rickon wouldn't shut up about his dream where he was Spiderman and Shaggydog was his sidekick. And he could talk. But only in Latin.

Sansa rolled her eyes in her princess-bitch way, as Arya called it behind her back. "Well my dream was about Joffrey. We were walking in the park--"

Arya cut her off with a piece of toast to the face. "No one wants to hear about your wet dreams."

Sansa's lovely face turned bright red, matching the colour of her brilliant red hair, as she wiped crumbs off her cheek. "Arya! It wasn't like that! God you're such a pervert!"

"What's a pervert?" Rickon asked loudly with his mouth full. He was only eleven.

Arya leaned forward and stage whispered, "It's someone who kidnaps little boys like yourself and wears their skin like clothes."

"Arya, those are pedophiles; not perverts. Perverts are just creepy men you see staring at women's breasts at the bus stop." Bran informed, not wanting Rickon to go around terrified of every person he saw. He could spare a headache or two now that way.

Or course their mom chose to listen while he spoke. Her eyes were wide and she looked completely shocked to hear him say something like that. He was Her Bran, her lovely little innocent Bran. He just stared back, unsure of what to do at that point.

Well...fuck.

Thankfully Ned came down the stairs, dispersing the awkward tension. "So who's ready for school?"

..o..o..o..

North Winterfell High, home of the Direwolves, loomed ahead in dark stone, looking more like a penitentiary than a high school. It was dark and gloomy as always, no matter what bright new color was painted on the walls. The students hated it, the teachers hated it, fuck, the environment hated it. It never ceased to stop snowing or raining during the day, leaving everyone in a perpetual gloom. ‘Depression High’ was what other schooled dubbed it. But hey, at least it got national attention for something.

"Goodbye my children, have a wonderful day!” Ned told them as he watched Bran, Arya, and Sansa walk into the building, grinning wide and happy as he waved them off. He knew they thought it was embarrassing and "uncool" but what kind of father would he be if he didn't humiliate them?

Bran wheeled around to the ramp with his sisters behind him. Sansa was complaining about her AP biology test she had today while Arya was trying to ride on the back of his chair and failing miserably. Students in front of them parted faster than a whores legs. No one wanted to get their ankles bruised from Arya’s unsafe maneuvering of his chair.

"I'll see you twats at lunch," Arya called and walked in the direction of the art room, throwing up a peace sign.

Sansa walked with him to his locker and to his first hour. She tried to tell him about the new lipstick brand but he tuned most of it out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sansa. It was just that she never said anything that he cared about. The only things she talked about was clothes, her friends, her boyfriend, and makeup. He didn’t care about any of that but he didn’t want to look like an asshole.

When she walked away he felt like he could breath again.

He sat at the only table located at the far right of the room. All his teachers had to add a table in their room if they didn't have one already. At first he felt awkward about, but now he likes the extra space.

Only him and some girls were in the room. There was still twenty minutes until class. He drew random ugly rabbit things in his notebook. Even as the time passed by and more of his classmates came into the room he sat there by himself. He got over the loneliness a while ago, when none of his friends from school would come visit him and people only wanted to pity him.

He could kind of understand. They were probably all afraid of offending him or making him feel like shit by referring to anything that involved walking. But, honestly, they practically were shunning him. And all Bran wanted was someone to talk to that he wasn't family with. He didn't care if all they talked about was sports or _stair climbing_ ; he just wanted someone to acknowledge him...

The bell rang while was lost in his thoughts and drawing the weird face carved into the weirwood tree in his backyard into his notebook. He didn’t leave it for long, advanced algebra wasn’t all that exciting since he already knew how to do it. During the summer all he did was study, play video games, and jerk off. His teacher didn’t even bother to ask if he needed help, he was practically a wheeling calculator.

He went to lunch with tired eyes and aching fingers. Arya and Sansa was already seated with their usual group of friends and sort-of-kinda friends. There was Margaery Tyrell, Jeyne Poole, and annoying Joffrey Baratheon at Sansa’s side. Gendry Waters, Hot Pie, and Lommy were practically yelling about _Call of Duty_ while Arya just watched, sometimes yelling with them too. Bran sat at the end of the long table like a king. He felt powerful, but he refused to let it show. Humility was key to being a king, he knew that.

“Hey, can I have your chips? Mom gave me this nasty fruit bar thing.” Arya said, already reaching for his chips.

He took the fruit bar with a grimace. “Yeah, sure, go ahead. I don’t really know why you ask, you always take them,” he deadpanned.

“She’s such a bully,” Gendry said, his smile making it more of a compliment.

“I’m not a bully. He’s my younger brother; I’m supposed to do this,” she reasoned, but her smirk was anything but reasonable.

Sansa snatched the chips out of her hand and tossed her the apple. “And I’m allowed to do this, horseface. Since I’m older and all that.”

Bran liked Sansa in these moments.

There was about ten minutes left of lunch when Sandor Clegane thundered into the lunchroom, looking like the world just fucked him for all he was worth. No one said anything to him after he sat down. They just watched as he quickly got more pissed from all the staring. It was awkward, to say the least.

“The fuck are you assholes looking at!” he growled like a wild dog, his scarred face hard and mean.

It was safe to say Bran was afraid of him. He once saw the guy punch a kid so hard he literally _flew_ backwards. No one should be that strong. Especially not while they're still in high school. But then again, he was pretty sure Clegane got held back a year or three.

“What’s got your balls in a twist, dog?” Joffrey sneered, looking pompous and idiotic. One would think the “dog” was his attempt at being cool but no, he was just an asshole. Bran and everyone else hated the kid but didn’t say anything because Sansa seemed to really like him.

Such a stupid prick.

Sandor, commonly know as the Hound, looked like he wanted to smash Joffrey’s squished little face into the table, but since he was being paid by Joffrey’s mom to guard him he couldn’t. “None of your fucking business.”

Joffrey just shrugged casually, his thin lips quirked up mockingly. “Whatever, I’m not paying you to bitch your feelings out to me. Hm, I don’t even think I should pay you at all, all the good it’s done for me.”

He apparently didn’t know how many times Sandor has had to threaten or punch a kid who would want to beat Joffrey to a bloody pulp. He thinks he invincible but if Sandor ever quit or got fired he’d probably be hospitalized and crying like the bitch he is. Bran pitied him, and he was the one with fucking disabilities.

“Oh Joffrey,” Sansa interrupted before Sandor could flip tits. “Do you want to come over after school? I need help with my research.”

 _All hail Sansa and her perfect timing_ , Bran thought. It was a gift and a curse. Bran of course didn’t want to go home after school now. It was bad enough to be in the older boys presence at school. He seriously didn’t know what his sister saw in him. He gave Arya a longing look when she asked Gendry if they could go over his house.

Gendry nodded at him. “Bran, wanna come over, we still haven’t finished our game.” By game be meant their _Magic the Gathering_ duel. It sounded a lot less lame in his head. Okay no it was lame either way.

But _oh gods yes._ Bran nodded enthusiastically. At least he wouldn’t have to bear witness to Sansa’s horrible relationship. Death would be preferable than that. Castration would be preferable to that.

The bell rang and they all went their separate ways.

..o..o..o..

When Bran finally got home, sometime after nine, his mother heated him up dinner and didn't say a word about why he wasn't home right after school. She just gave him an understanding look and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

He ate alone; Arya just made two sandwiches and went to her room. But knowing her she was just going to stay up and watch movies until her eyes dried up (or until their mom yelled at her to take her ass to sleep.)

Damn, just thinking of sleep had Bran almost dropping his head onto his plate. He didn't know why he was so tired. Maybe it was this shitty long week and four hours of mindlessly playing video games.

He debated whether or not he should take a shower. He yawned, but it came out more like a howl, and decided _fuck no_. He always had tomorrow.

Bran locked his door after he shut it and literally crawled into bed. He was wrapping his arms around his pillow when he remembered he was still wearing his school clothes.

He groaned and swore and started taking his clothes off at a snails pace. He pretty much gave up with his jeans after the third try and he couldn't get them off, so now they were wrapped awkwardly around his legs.

_Whatever. It's not like I can feel it anyway._

With that morbid thought he fell asleep, never once waking up from his nightmares until morning. 


	2. Blondie, Blondie, Blondie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep rewriting this shit omfg (12/6/16) hopefully my last time lol

Arya woke up with a snort and the gross taste of old Mountain Dew in her mouth and her xbox controller jabbing her in the back. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. It was only 6:14. There was a message from Gendry that he sent at 4:39 but she ignored it for now. “Ah, fuck Mondays.” She cuddled into her Gendry smelling pillow and went back to sleep. Five more minutes…

..o..o..o..

Sansa was curling the ends of her hair, smiling at herself in the mirror, singing something because she was chipper like that despite it being the most hated day of the week. She licked her strawberry flavored lips and checked her phone. One message from Joff. She felt her heart pound in her chest. She quickly opened the message.

_The dog is picking you up today. I’ll be by your locker. c;_

Sansa smiled at her phone, pressing it to her heart. “Oh, Joff-Joff…”

..o..o..o..

The weekend came and went for Bran with not much to show for. He studied, played TF2 until his eyes burned, and jerked off to his dreams. He was pretty sure that made him lame but he wasn’t at the liberty to care. He questioned his sexuality more than once. But none of that was new to him.

He was having more dreams about the blond boy. Not all of them were grip the sheets orgasmic but those did leave the lasting impression. Some of them were normal dreams but _Blondie_ \--Bran's stupid cheesy name for the boy--was always in them. Although his face was never completely in focus. Every time he looked at him it was like looking into someone else's glasses, all blurry and fuzzy. He was beginning to desperately wish to see that face completely.

But he remembered the eyes though, always the eyes. So green he thought he was drowning in a sea of grass and moss.

He was a romantic. Deal with it.

..o..o..o..

Arya sat in the far back of the room, liking to be shrouded in the shadows than being in the spotlight. And she knew there was less of a chance that she’d get called on, it wasn’t like she was actually paying attention. She had a perfect view into the shallow woods around her school, all tall trees with thick branches and she was filled with the desire to climb them..

Gendry slouched down next to her, turning his head to stare at her. He didn’t say anything, he just stared.

After a while Arya got annoyed. “Are you just going to stare at me all day? What’s your problem?”

“Sorry I was entrapped by your beauty. I couldn’t help myself.” He said this with absolute seriousness. He didn’t smile or laugh.

 _Beauty? I didn't even know that was in Gendry's vocabulary._ Arya thought while trying to force her disturbed expression away. She felt unease creep into her regardless. What the everlasting fuck? “Are you okay? Did you fall up the stairs again?” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt normal at least.

Gendry shook his head, reaching up to touch her hand. “I’m alright, Arya. But I meant what I said. You’re beautiful.”

Other around them must have heard because it suddenly got very quiet in the classroom. _Shit_ , Arya thought, _shit, shit shit._ Gendry was her best friend. And yeah, he sometimes sleeps over, and yeah they kissed a few times, but that was it. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, at least not to her. The thought of being in a relationship made her feel queasy. She didn’t know how to handle things like this. Things like love.

The next best thing she knew was anger.

“Cut the shit, Gendry, I’m not in the mood.”

He stared at her with his steely blue eyes and let out a harsh breath. “You’re never in the mood. Why is that, huh? Why are you always so cold?”

She clenched her jaw. She had no idea what got into Gendry. Why was he acting like this? Her mood plummeted to the ground as her anger shot up. “Fuck you! Why are you acting like such a dick?” she hissed at him, trying to keep her voice low enough that their teacher wouldn’t overhear. She could give fuck-all about the peers around her, though.

Gendry shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He sighed deeply and shook his head again, as if dispelling thoughts from his ears. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

“No.” She leaned in to face him, her throat dry from a feeling she couldn’t explain. _Didn’t_ want to explain. “Tell me.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes and she felt like she really fucked up this time. But it wasn’t her fault if she did. She watched as he shook his head and promptly ignored her. She sat back, completely at a loss of what to do. She didn’t get why Gendry was acting like this. She couldn’t think of anything that she did wrong to him. The last time they talked was Sunday night and it was nothing but normal. Well, he did mention something about her smile...but that wasn’t unusual, not like this.

And why was he even calling her beautiful? She wasn’t beautiful. Sansa and her bitchy friends always called her horseface. And neither Lommy or Hot Pie ever hinted to being attracted to her her and they always talked about the hot girls at their school. So what the hell?

She bit her tongue from screaming out in frustration. She would lie to anyone who said they saw tears in her eyes.

..o..o..o..

Bran covered a yawn and pulled out his aged _Lord of The Rings_ copy and began reading. The thing was so old and damn near fallen apart but it felt like a family heirloom. It was that old. He only started reading at the part where Frodo wakes up in Elrond’s house when he heard the seemingly innocuous sound of the chair next to him pulling out.

He froze and slowly looked to his left. At first all he could see was a green sweater. The bottle green sweater with the Greywater University logo on it. Then blond hair and moss green eyes.

 _I’m dreaming. This has all been a dream. I’m not seeing this. Nope. Nope. Nope. I’m in my bed dreaming this._ Bran closed his eyes and pinched his arm, his heart beating erratically in his small chest. He opened his eyes again but there he was. He looked down at his hands and saw that he had all ten fingers. He looked back up at the blond.

 _There he is,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind and behind all the shock he almost felt like he'd been expecting this.

The boy was blond with emerald green eyes and pink lips. He was dressed in jeans and that sweater. His ears were pierced with silvers hoops and studs and he wore a checkered wristband. He looked at Bran with an eyebrow raised in what he assumed was concern. Or he was looking at him like "what the fuck is wrong with this kid,” Bran couldn’t tell over the rising panic he felt.

“I’m sorry...but are you real?” Bran asked as calmly as he could. As calm as anyone could be when _literally_ seeing the guy of your dreams sitting _two_ feet away from you. Which wasn’t much.

His insides felt like they were being jumbled around to the point he thought he was going to be sick. He could just imagine upchucking right there, getting all of it over that green sweater. His hands felt clammy and his head a bit light, he wondered if this was what drugs were like because he was pretty sure he was hallucinating. He blinked a few times but the boy was still standing there.

The blond’s lips quirked up in a half smile. Bran couldn't stop his brain from remembering all those dreams. He could almost feel those same lips pressed hotly against his skin, right above his hip, mouthing down between his legs--oh _shit_.

 _Don’t get a hard-on, Brandon Stark, get your shit together!_ He forced his thoughts away from what those lips could do and stared at the boy again. _Old Nan, think of Old Nan!_

The green eyed boy looked down at his own body in surprise. "As far as I know. Why, are you tripping? You aren’t going to ask me what year it is, are you?”

Attractive with a sense of humor. Sexuality be damned! And, gods, his voice was just--so smooth! Bran was trying not to have a meltdown and seem normal at the same time but his brain functionality was diminishing at the second.

Bran tried not to choke on his spit. "Sorry, that was, uh, nevermind. Not important," _nice save. That didn’t help the fact that I sound like a total dumbass._ That was followed by a couple awkward _haha_ ’s and _um_ ’s.

"Is it alright if I sit here?” His perfectly shaped eyebrows quirked up questioningly and Bran tried really hard not to stare like a moron. “I'm not in anyone's spot am I? I'd hate to have to move after I marked my territory all over it." His voice was _so_ soft and smooth and Bran was aware that he just described his voice like he described peanut butter.

And _what_? Marking his territory? Yeah. Sure.

Bran chuckled but it came out barely noticeable and awkward. “You can sit with me.”

The blond sat and put out his hand and after a while wiggled it when Bran just stared at it. “You know this is normally when you shake my hand. I don’t have cooties, I swear.”

Bran slid his hand into his. He hoped his palm wasn’t sweaty. He felt sweaty and turned on. Like really, really turned on. Over a goddamn handshake. His fingers tingled as they brushed against the other boy’s and when the boy gripped his hand tightly, Bran stopped his brain from thinking of what that would feel like on his dick. “Sorry, I’m Brandon Stark. You can just call me Bran.” _And, you know, I’ve just been dreaming about fucking you for the past few months. No big deal._

“Reed. Jojen Reed, at your service.” He smiled, looking so proud of himself.

Now he had a name to the face. Face, body, all that.

Bran was smiling like a complete dork. He couldn’t stop staring at his green eyes. They were just like he remembered. Beautiful as fuck. He knew this was weird. It wasn’t _right_. It freaked him out on the inside and he kept worrying that he was imagining this and that he was just talking to himself in the middle of class. But when he looked around no one was giving him weird looks and Jojen seemed real enough.

"Where did you come from?" Heaven, maybe?

"I used to live in The Neck _buuuuut_ my parents got a divorce and now I live with my mom." He said, taking one look at Bran's expression and continued. "Don't worry it's not like they hate each other. It's not my fault either, or my sisters. They just...fell out of love." He shrugged.

Bran thought he sounded a bit miserable when he said that. Like he was some die hard romantic and his parents divorce crushed his fragile views on romance. He didn't know what to say so he said, "I'm sorry" and awkwardly looked away. Damn his awkwardness.

“It’s fine now,” Jojen shrugged again and picked at the healing scar on his wrist.

Bran felt a wave of sadness crash against his heart. Jojen cuts? He just wanted to wrap the blond up in a hug now. He wanted to protect Jojen from anything that would make him sad or depressed. He was so tempted to do just that but he didn’t want to come off as a total creep. He did just meet this dude, it would probably cross a lot of boundaries if he did that. Oh, but he wanted to so bad.

He must have seen Bran looking because he stopped scratching at it and flushed a little. Bran thought that was immensely cute. "Oh...no...it's not--" he sighed and chuckled lightly. "I cut myself cutting a pizza the other day. And no that's not a lie. Here," he turned his wrist and touched a pink burn mark. It still looked fresh, the skin raised and irritated. "I burned myself on the oven, freaked, and cut myself too. I have horrible luck."

Bran sighed in relief, almost deflating in his chair. "You should probably stay away from pointy things."

"And ovens."

The brunet chuckled and lifted his sleeve. The long since healed cut was pink against his pale skin. "I used to climb trees a lot. I got this from a stupidly sharp branch. It hurt like a bitch. Had to get stitches."

Jojen reached out and traced it with his finger, zigzagging it from stitch scar to stitch scar. Warm tingles spread out through his arm with that single stroke. The brunet turned his head to look at Jojen and found that their faces were super close, only a breath away. Jojen’s hair smelled like flowery shampoo and his breath like spearmint gum. His face flushed pink. Oh shit, son.

 _Riiiing_ \--oh yes. Saved by the bell.

Mr. Baelish walked in with his usual smile and flourish and Bran pulled his arm back. Honestly, Bran always thought this guy was a creep. He always hit on his mom during conferences--apparently they knew each other from childhood?--and it always pissed his dad off. And sometimes he saw him looking at Sansa with that weird smile on his face.

Mr. Baelish saw Jojen’s unfamiliar face with his tiny blue-grey eyes and walked towards him. He smelled like too much cologne and not enough toothpaste. “Why, is this our new student? I see you’ve acquainted yourself with him, Bran.”

 _Ugh gross now he’s looking at me._ Bran wanted to wheel himself over a cliff right about now.

“I’m Jojen Reed, it’s nice to meet you…?”

“Call me Mr. Baelish. You transferred all the way from Greywater High, huh? Well, I truly hope you enjoy our school. If you need anything, you can come to me.” All the while his eyes roamed over Jojen’s features.

“Right.” Jojen nodded slowly, sounding like he would do the exact opposite and trying not to look mortified.

“Have Bran get you caught up. I’m sure he’ll be a great teacher to you. He is my top student.” He smiled at Bran before walking to the front of the room to instruct the class.

Jojen was trying not laugh. “Is he always so…”

“Disturbing?”

“Yep.”

“How do you think I feel? He’s always trying to show me off to the other math teachers. And he knows my parents on a personal level, apparently. Gods, he once was invited over to my house for dinner.” That was a trainwreck, one Bran did not want to recap.

“I feel so bad for you. It’s like having Peter Pettigrew hovering over you with those creepy eyes. Why are his eyes so tiny? And that smile,” Jojen shuddered. “I feel like he just undressed me.”

“It’s sad because his name is Petyr.” Bran whispered.

Jojen laughed quietly into his sleeve. It was adorable. Bran was just staring at him. He was hot in like a dorky nerdy way. Maybe cute was better. He was kind of short but Bran didn’t care. Everyone was taller than him anyway.

“So, what’s your schedule?” Bran asked and took the white paper that Jojen handed him. “You’re a junior?” He asked in shock, eyes quickly looking over Jojen’s features again. Not that he minded, of course. Jojen _was_ hot, Bran decided.

Jojen nodded, biting a nail, unconcerned. “Yeah, why?”

“Sorry, it’s...just that you look like a thirteen year old.”

When Jojen rolled his eyes and smiled Bran knew he wasn’t offended by his honesty. “I age well. I’m like fine wine.”

Bran chuckled, not doubting it at all. “We have lunch and ceramics together.” His stomach flipped at that. Today must have been the day the gods smiled down on him because there was no way he was this lucky. The boy of his dreams...pretty much all to himself.

He was still pretty sure this was all an elaborate dream. If it was, it was punishment for all his bad deeds. Not that he had many, but he knew of a few. He was regretting the time he laughed when Lucy Flowers got her fingers jammed in the locker, but it was funny at the time. Hilarious, actually. Plus Lucy Flowers was a bitch and she kind of deserved it.

The blond boy of Bran’s wet dreams took his schedule back and looked at it, nodding as if he knew what classes Bran even had. “So it seems. I’ll get to see you in the morning, at lunch, and at the end of the day.” He ticked the three off on his fingers then wiggled them.

Bran nodded, amused already by the teens eccentricities. “And in between classes, see my third hour is right across from yours, same with my fifth,” he told him with a half-smile. “It seems like you’re not going to be able to get rid of me, unfortunately,” he muttered, hoping it wasn’t actually a bad thing for Jojen. Because it definitely wasn’t for Bran, that was for damn sure.

Jojen hummed, a deep sound that Bran instantly liked. “Mm, I’m fine with that. Another man's misfortune is another’s man's gain.” He winked. Bran nearly swooned.

 _He’s fine with seeing me all day_ , Bran thought giddily. He was fine. Yeah, Jojen was fine. Fine, fine, _fine_. Bran was about, hm, five second away from doing something completely ridiculous like kissing Jojen. Kissing those adorably pink lips and not regretting it afterwards.

_You can’t kiss him. You just met him. Bran, stop, stop it right now. He’s straight! Straight. Straight. Straight. Okay he might not be, but don’t kiss him. You. Just. Met. Him._

He had to look away before he closed the small--and getting smaller--distance between them. He heard Jojen let out a sigh when he moved away and Bran felt disappointed with himself because fuck Jojen totally would have kissed him and he just ruined it. Thanks brain, you really helped a ton.

It was awkward for a while. Bran rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. No one seemed to see that awkward exchange. All except Mr. Baelish. He was watching, always watching.

“Sooooo, I bet you understand this more than me,” Jojen muttered, flailing his paper about. “Considering I am in sophomore math as a junior. But come on, math fucking sucks.”

And just like that the awkwardness was gone and they went back to talking again, sitting even closer to each other.

..o..o..o..

Sandor Clegane was a beast of a man. Tall, muscular, intimidating. His face was mean and scarred and no one ever looked too hard at him in fear that he would read your soul or beat your ass. He was quick to anger and ever quicker to punching someone in the face. No one fucked with him. Not even the teachers.

Sansa didn’t know why he even came to school. He never said anything unless he was threatening someone. The only time she’s seen him do work is in Tech.

She sighed, trying not to fall asleep in her seat. She looked at the clock. Only two minutes have passed since she'd last glanced at it. Twelve minutes until lunch.

She tapped her pencil against the table. Mr. Pycelle was about as interesting as a hangnail. It literally hurt to listen to him talk in his whispery rasp of a voice. And he taught history. He was so old she was sure everything he talked about were first hand accounts. Her bored blue eyes wandered around the room, searching for Margaery’s eyes. She rolled them and mimed shooting herself when they met hers. Her best friend smiled and slit her throat with her finger, her eyes rolling back into her head.

 _Ten minutes left, oh fuck me Stranger,_ Sansa thought.

She continued to think, but her thoughts didn’t go to the apparent love of her life but to his body guard. Sandor. _Hound_. Sandor. _Dog_. It wasn’t like he was nice to her. He called her a bitch the other day and he threatened her just yesterday. But there wasn’t any heat to it. It was all empty words and she knew that.

She didn’t know why she did, but she just did. It must have to do with him calling her ‘little bird’ all the time. Sansa didn’t take that as an insult. Not from him.

The bell rang before she knew it and the relief almost made her pass out.

“Come, my dearest friend, before we internally combust from absolute boredom.” Margaery looped her arm around her and dragged her weary bones out of the classroom.

“Six more months. Six more months and we’re out of here.” Sansa muttered under her breath. They were both going to King’s Landing University in the fall. They still had six more months of high school to go through. It was torture, goddamn torture. She couldn’t understand how teachers ever wanted to come back to this place.

“Yes, and we can sunbathe! And pick flowers! I can’t wait. Sansa, let’s build a time machine.” Margaery sang.

“Sure, why not? I bet we could do it if we tried.” Sansa said. “Although I don’t know a thing about mechanics and engineering.”

“Neither do I. We could get those weird kids from the robotics team to build it for us and we can just watch and sip mimosas.”

“It’s the classy thing to do.” They clinked pretend glasses together in a toast before laughing at how weird they were.

“Gods, I’m hungry. I hope they don’t have that nasty pizza. It gives you dog breath.”

“It’s honestly probably made out of dogs. Strays at that!”

They sat at the long table, squeezing in between Joffrey and Jeyne. Arya wasn’t there yet but Gendry, Lommy, and Hot Pie were. Gendry looked moody and had his earbuds in. Not even Lommy’s horrible impersonation of Principle Brienne made him laugh. She knew it took Bran a while to get down here with his wheelchair so she wasn’t worried.

When Bran did come down he was with someone. A blond boy with green eyes that she's never seen before. Bran was smiling up at the blond and talking excitedly with him. She felt a smile curve at her lips. _Bran’s finally making friends. It’s about time._ She noticed in the corner of her eye Jeyne sitting up a bit straighter and subtly checking if her hair was perfect. _Does Jeyne like Bran?_ Sansa smirked a little.

Time to play matchmaker. 


	3. We're not coming out. I swear.

Tuesday morning turned out to be even worse than Monday morning. Bran's eyelids felt like lead and he had no desire to open them despite being in the middle of class. He had been tempted to just stay home and sleep past noon but every time that thought came to him, he’d remember why he had been up so late.

Jojen fucking Reed.

He would have been fine right now if his dreams hadn’t been about Jojen. Or, if he wasn't constantly thinking about him. Or if the simple thought of his name didn’t cast his heart into fits of excitement. He could barely think without wondering what Jojen was doing, how he felt, if he thought about Bran as much as Bran thought of him.

After school Monday, Bran had been lost in his head for the rest of the day, thinking of all the things he wish he would have said and all the embarrassing shit he wished he hadn’t done. He had all these questions he wanted to ask but he was too afraid it would ruin everything, or just make it painfully awkward even more than it already was.

 _Who are you? Because I don't think I should be seeing you. Are you real? Are you human? And, uh, do you get_ those _dreams, too, or am I just a weird pervert?_ Yeah, he didn’t see that going too well, even if Jojen seemed like a laidback kind of guy.

The auburn haired teenager woke up that Tuesday embarrassingly moaning Jojen's name, his skin sweaty and flushed, soaking the constantly washed sheets with his sweat. It took him almost fifteen minutes to calm down because Dream Jojen was still making his heart pound. Honestly, there was no justifiable reason someone can be _that_ hot and still manage to be a complete nerd.

Dreams. Memories. He wasn't sure what they were but they all felt familiar. Like watching an old movie he knows he's seen before as a kid but not remembering how or why.

And, since the universe hated Bran for some terrible, unjustified reason, it was highly logical that his dreams would be psycho intense now that he's actually _met_ Jojen. But he hadn’t been prepared for that last night. Not. At. All.

It was probably wrong to get off on thinking about the seventeen year old boy who you saw in your dreams. But he couldn't stop it. Whether he liked it or not, they came (no pun intended.) And he was a pathetic teenager anyway, enslaved by hormones that were likely to do more bad than good.

Now all he could think about was if Jojen would really moan like that if he bit him on his neck, right under his jaw. Or if his stomach would flutter if Bran kissed the dip of his hipbone. And if he would make that adorable face whenever he came or if that was just a thing he did in Bran’s dreams.

Oh hell. He needed to calm down before he got stiff again. It doesn't matter who you're thinking about; classroom boners are the absolute worst.

So now Bran sat in second hour but what he really wanted to do was get Jojen in his birthday suit. He wanted him in his birthday suit while in his bed, panting out his name, arching his back, hands fisting the sheets, eyes rolling back...

He seriously didn't get how people thought he was the innocent one.

And he's well aware that "birthday suit" isn't sexy sounding at all. But once a rebel always a rebel--

Anyway, Bran was excited. Ecstatic. Distracted. He couldn't even do any of his homework last night. His hands were _waaaaay_ too busy--

He knew he had a problem. Jojen was a problem. He needed to figure something out soon or else he was going to fail high school and become a chronic masturbator or something like that. He couldn't be the cripple and the failure of the family. Balance, there was always a balance.

There was two minutes left of passing and Bran was slowly getting nervous. He bit at his nail, something he rarely did but he couldn’t help the nerves that wracked his tiny body. Where was he?

Bran stared at the doorway as other kids came in, none of them the one he wanted. Bran was starting to get worried. As the long hand on the clock inched closer to the 2, Bran was questioning his sanity.

 _Oh no,_ he started thinking. _What if Jojen wasn't real? What if yesterday never happened? What if it was all a dream? What if--_

Before Bran could stress himself bald, Jojen Reed walked around the corner and through the open door. His large binder and stack of books sitting precariously in his arms and Bran caught himself before he let out a happy sigh of relief. He could only see Jojen's forehead and it didn't help that the guy was short. But he saw the checkered wristband on his left wrist and felt a calmness settle over him once more. At least it proved that he wasn't hallucinating. Jojen was _real._

The short blond slumped next to Bran and unceremoniously dumped the books on the table. It wobbled, looking like it was about to fall apart, but it held through. His pretty blond head rested on his books.

Bran looked at the stack he had carried in out of curiosity. Psychology 101, a book about lycanthropy--Bran was going to ask him about that later--a large book about anatomy, and other odd books. He also had a heavy looking book bag.

The brunet finally got a look at the blond and was shocked to see bags under his eyes. He looked like a sad animal. It was adorable. Slightly endearing in a weird way, which probably wasn’t healthy. Bran’s face might have gotten a bit flushed but he would ignore that.

"You okay?" Bran asked quietly, the concern clear in his voice. He set his head on his arms so he could look the green eyed boy in the eyes.

Jojen sighed and meet his eyes, and Bran saw how tired Jojen really was. "Sort of. Real bad dream." He sounded miserable. His usual bright eyes were dark and heavy. It must have been one hell of a nightmare.

Bran felt bad. While he was moaning and thrashing in his sleep, Jojen was lying awake probably horrified. Bran only gets that way with zombie dreams.

Zombie dreams are the worse. Absolutely terrifying. Bloody jaws snapping at his throat, green, rotted hands clawing at his ribs, the stench of death filling his nostrils. Oh man.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jojen looked haunted. At first it seemed like he was going to say no. Bran could see it plain on his face. But Jojen sighed and spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion but sadness. "I watched someone I love die."

Icy dread filled his heart for some reason. He couldn't say it was jealousy because it wasn't that. It was way more than that. Jojen must love many people; like his parents and sister and childhood pet. It wasn't jealousy.

He was scared and he didn't know why.

"I'm sorry." Wow, he was inadequate. Was that all he could say? He wanted to tell him it would be okay and to comfort him and make him feel better. It was like he could _feel_ Jojen's sadness like it was his own. He wasn’t sure what was going on between them but he knew that he hated seeing Jojen like this.

Jojen tried to give a smile but it wavered and vanished before it could even count as one.

Fuck it.

Bran reached out the best he could and wrapped his arms around the blond. The arm of his chair dug into his side but he ignored the pain for Jojen’s sake. Jojen definitely wasn't expecting that. But he didn't push him away so Bran didn't let go.

"Jojen, it was just a nightmare, okay? It wasn't real." His mouth was right by Jojen's neck. He could feel Jojen's skin when he talked. He could easily just press his lips closer, closer until it touched skin. His head started to feel a little light at that thought.

_Whoa. Kissing Jojen. Sounds fantastic. When can we start?_

Jojen was nodding with one hand coming to rest on Bran's right hand, all warm and soft. Bran smiled and burrowed deeper into Jojen's neck. He liked being there. For some reason he felt...safe and comfortable like this.

 _Damn, Jojen has nice shoulders. Holy seven hells he smells good. He so warm, I could just fall asleep right here..._ Bran yawned, breathing warm air down Jojen's neck. The older boy shivered. He distantly heard the bell ring and he wanted to tell its screeching to shut the fuck up so he could stay like this forever.

"Bran, uh, you can let go now." Jojen muttered, his voice sounding downright dreamy so close to Bran’s ear.

The brunet quickly let go, his face flushing red. _Way to go dipshit. That's one way to lose the one friend you have._ Bran wanted to be swallowed up in an abyss. At least it beat dying from embarrassment.

"S-sorry," _oh kill me now_.

"It's okay." Jojen's face was just as red and he looked incredibly young and adorable with his cheeks flushed pink like that.

Bran took interest in that. A lot of interest.

"Hugs not drugs and all that."

Jojen actually smiled at that, shaking his head in amusement. He knocked his hand against Bran's and linked their fingers together. "Bran, you're a dork. You can hug me, honest, it's just..." he frowned.

He tugged at Jojen's hand. "What? You can tell me, anything." Bran felt like he shouldn't be having this conversation in the middle of algebra. He didn't see anyone even looking in their direction thought so he figured it was safe for a few more seconds.

Jojen thought the same, his eyes shifting around the room before resting on Bran’s face. "Later, okay? After school, maybe? I know this place by the bridge, really relaxing."

Bran nodded and smiled. They were going to be alone, hopefully in a darkly lit corner. Alone. He really liked that idea. Did he mention that they would be alone? He waggled his eyebrows at the blond.

Jojen just rolled his eyes and scooted his chair closer. "You're going to be the death of me, Brandon Stark."

Bran took that as a good thing.

..o..o..o..

At lunch Sansa realized her sister was fighting with Gendry. They sat far away from each other, not looking or talking to each other. Gendry was obviously trying to make it look like he wasn't bothered by it. But Arya was sending off massive don't-fuck-with-me vibes that even clueless Lommy and Hot Pie noticed it.

She wasn't sure if she should talk to Arya about it. If anything, to just to give her some sisterly support or to let her cry on her shoulder although she's never seen Arya cry since she was nine. She'd probably tell her to fuck off anyway.

Arya just sat there picking at the sandwich their mother made her. She didn't eat last night or this morning. Last night she stayed in her room, blaring music and telling everyone to leave her alone. 'Fuck off' and 'go fuck yourselves' more like it.

They broke up. Harsh. First loves are always the worst.

Joffrey was compla--she means talking passionately about something to do with his absent “guard dog”. She just nodded a lot and ate some apple slices but she couldn't help but wonder too. Where the hell _was_ Sandor? He rarely skipped despite his blatant hatred for school. That would cut into his pay.

Sansa didn't completely understand why she even cared that Sandor was suddenly missing. It was a strange feeling but she couldn't stop thinking about him now that she had started.

"It was brilliant. I can't believe you haven't seen it."

She turned her head at the familiar voice to see Bran and his new friend, Jojen, coming into the lunchroom later than usual. Bran had both their binders and books on his lap but it didn't seem to bother him. He was smiling excitedly while gesturing wildly while Jojen pushed his chair, his head leaned back a bit to look at the blond boys face.

She sneakily looked down her list.

How to get Bran and Jeyne together in 4 easy steps:

Step 1: get them to talk to each other

Step 2: inquire about their feelings

Step 3: let them be alone NOTHING SEXUAL!!!

Step 4: plan wedding with jeyne

Sansa thought this was a good, solid plan. Jeyne was cute and from what she knows about Bran, he likes cute girls. Of course she's never seen him with a girl or heard him say he liked cute girls, but all boys his age liked cute girls. It's fact.

"Sorry. I lost interest after season six. It just got _waaay_ too drawn out. Did Cas and Dean end up with each other?" Jojen sat next to Sansa near the end of the table but all of his attention was at Bran. And Bran was just eating the attention up. She hasn't seen him smiling so much since his birthday.

Not like that was surprising. Ever since this Jojen Reed kid showed up yesterday he was with Bran like a shadow. But Bran looked happy to have him. He finally had a dorky friend to talk about _Star Wars_ or whatever with. She honestly had no idea what else Bran liked, but if it had weird music and questionable graphics she was sure he was into it.

"Ha ha. No. The subtext fucks us every time. Eleven seasons long and still nothing."

 _Oh my gods. They are complete dorks._ Sansa blocked out their conversation after that.

But Jeyne leaned over to look at the two boys. "I love that show."

Sansa stared at her friend like she just confessed her undying love to one of Walder Frey's sons. _Bullshit_. Jeyne probably didn't even know what they were talking about. But at least she was talking to him and Sansa didn't even have to do anything.

She looked at Bran to gauge his expression. His expression mirrored her earlier thoughts completely.

"That's great." It was a clear dismissal. Sansa's never heard Bran's voice sound so... _mean._ It was gone once he was talking to Jojen again. "Anyway, pretty much the world ends..."

Sansa watched as Jeyne sat back looking annoyed. Jeyne's eyes wandered over to the blond boy at Sansa's right side. Sansa wasn't sure if she saw anger in Jeyne's brown eyes when she looked at Jojen or something else completely.

Right, 'cause she likes Bran and all. But it wasn't like Bran ever paid any attention to her. And Jeyne never paid attention to Bran before either. She always thought Bran was weird because he was so quiet. She only talked to him because she had to.

Sansa didn't know what was going on. Maybe she thought Jojen was a threat and it was time to pounce.

Wow that was stupid sounding. It wasn't like Bran was into him or anything. Not that Jojen Reed wasn’t a cute boy or anything, but she doubted Bran was ever into guys.

"So," Lommy was looking at Bran and Jojen, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you two, like, _dating_ or something?"

Whoa, what the fuck Lommy? Sansa wanted to kick him for asking something so stupid. Even Arya looked up, staring between the two boys in question, a curious look in her eyes.

Sansa’s eyes widened at her younger brothers reaction, not at all expecting Bran’s face to go completely flush or for him to avert his gaze to the table. "W-why would you..."

Jojen slung an arm around Bran's shoulder without any hesitation, an easy smile on his face as he stared back at Lommy. "Oh yeah, we're definitely dating."

"Jojen, s-shut up." Bran covered his face. He refused to look at the infuriating blond. Between his fingers, though, anyone could see how red his face was getting. "You're so weird."

"So is that a yes...or nah?"

"Yes." Jojen said at the same time Bran said "No."

Jojen sighed into his hand, shaking his head. "Brannie-butt just go with it."

"...Brannie-butt? Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah, don't get mad," he peeked at Bran through his fingers, his smirk making him look incredibly handsome. "I think it's cute. Suits you."

Bran's face noticeably got redder and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"So gay," Lommy muttered. He shook his head and went back to talking to the fat boy next to him.

Bran and Jojen continued to argue about the nickname. It was pretty much flirting. Bran hated Brannie-butt for sure, hated Brannels, and most definitely hated Bran-Bran. He decided Jojen sucked at pet names and gave up when the blond became persistent in calling him Brannie-butt. (They decided Bran could be Brannie-butt in private as long as Jojen was Joji in public.)

Sansa stared at the arm around Bran, leading down to the hand that was holding Bran almost possessively. Her eyes widened. _Okay, weird_ , but Bran actually seemed to be enjoying the closeness. He hadn’t pushed the blond away and was positively beaming even as he said that Jojen was irritating.

 _Just going on an educated guess here but I think Bran's gay._ Sansa sighed. Jeyne is going to be devastated. Sansa looked at the empty spot at the other end of the table. _And where the hell_ is _Sandor?_

..o..o..o..

Rolling in a wheelchair had its perks, Bran can admit that. Sure the whole losing your legs thing is shit but at least you can say fuck you to the stairs and run over people's feet for fun. Bran used to miss going up stairs, but now as he watched all the butts struggling to get in front of one another, he just pitied them.

He didn't miss stairs. He just missing being able to walk in general, and run, and climb. But he would not feel bad for himself anymore. Either way he'll still be in the damn chair whether he likes it or not.

He liked the tough love kind of thing. He thought that was working for him.

Hands were suddenly covering his eyes and all he saw was darkness. He scowled. Soft hair tickled his cheek. It smelled like coconuts.

"Don't move and no one gets hurt," someone with an exaggerated deep voice growled in his ear.

"Your cop voice sucks. But knowing you, you don't mind sucking." Bran teased, his shoulders shaking with his laughter.

Arya slapped the back of his head. "Jerk."

Bran rubbed his head, scowling again. "Ow, you troll."

Arya smirked down at him, removing her bright orange head phones and putting them around her neck. "How was your day, little brother? See any good fights?"

Bran pushed himself closer to the elevator and shook his head. "No fights. But I did see Joffrey's boring sister arguing with her even more boring boyfriend. Something to do with facebook messages from some girl. It was pretty funny. Jojen got it on his phone."

"Yeah, I heard about it. Didn't she throw her chair at him?" Arya looked down at her phone, and seeming to not like what she saw.

"Uh...no."

"Huh," Arya shrugged. "But I overheard Sansa's band of anorexic minions say Myrcella _did_ kick him in the balls."

Bran shook his head. "Nope. Didn't happen. She just slapped--you know I can just show you. Jojen--"

"Hey, speaking of which," Arya smirked and Bran already knew where the conversation was headed. "Where _is_ your boyfriend? I'm surprised that he isn't all over you. And why were you carrying the books? Are _you_ courting him?"

 _Great, because of him people think we're dating._ He wouldn't mind that, actually dating Jojen. But they aren't so talking about them dating is just awkward. "We are not dating."

"Uh huh, suuuure, keep tellin' yourself that, kid." She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the down button.

"Really we aren't. "

She still wasn't buying it. "Look, no one cares that you're gay, Bran. Really. No one. Especially not mom. She's already going to be expecting a shit ton of grandkids." She frowned as the doors closed around them. "Now that I think of it...gay guys always want big families, right? They always get the cutest babies too."

Bran flushed, looking at his reflection in the closed elevator doors. "That's stereotypical, Arya, don't be an ass."

Arya shrugged as they began their slow descent. "Just saying. I'm not having kids."

"Can't have babies slow down your partying, huh?"

"Damn straight."

Bran chuckled. "We all know Sansa's going to have a litter."

"Right. Gross."

The doors opened and Bran rolled out first, accidentally running over Arya's foot. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. Fucking asshole," she grumbled and walked with him. She wasn't even limping so it couldn't be that bad.

He was about to turn the corner when he remembered what he was supposed to do today. He paused and Arya ran into his back. He winced. "My bad."

"Ow! Dammit Bran if you're doing this on purpose--"

"I'm not getting a ride from dad. You can go with Sansa." Bran interrupted. He really hoped she just went with it like a good older sister but knowing her she'll ask questions like a bad older sister.

Sisters are the worst. Trade them in when you can.

"Why not? How the hell are you getting home? Roll the 15 blocks?" She stood in front of him, hands on his handles, and leaned down until she was staring him right in the face. Her big dark eyes bore into his, hard and intimidating.

He just sighed. He was used to people doing this when they tried to stare him down. Yeah, make the kid in the chair feel even more impaired. Thanks, you're the best.

"I have plans, ok. And don't worry I have a ride."

One eyebrow rose up. "Oh really? Who else do you know with a car?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

Seven hells. There was no one that he could even lie about. Gendry already left and he didn't want to bring him up knowing that he and his sister weren't...whatever it was they were anymore. And even if he did try he was a pisspoor liar. Bran grimly accepted defeat. "Jojen."

Arya slowly started to smirk. "And people call _me_ the Stark Slut. Bran, Bran, Bran. That sounds like a date to me." She shook her head and leaned off his chair.

"It's not like that."

"Whatever. Wear condoms. And only do the cool drugs." Arya was laughing like this was the best shit ever.

"Arya, you're my favorite sister. Stop acting like a dick."

"Fine, but when I see him he's going to get the speech. And not just from me. Mum, dad, Robb. Hell, Jon would probably drive down here to give him one too. If he hurts you he'll probably die the same day."

"Go away," Bran mumbled.

She started to walk away towards her own locker but not before ruffling his hair and saying, "Ah, my little brother is growing up. What a day."

Embarrassed and annoyed, Bran glumly opened his locker. The few people around him moved out the way. Bran yanked his bag out and stuffed his books in, grumbling about his annoying sister under his breath.

He slammed his locker shut. Jojen stood at the other side, his heavy looking backpack hanging at his side. Bran made an embarrassing squeak sound and almost dropped his bag but grabbed the strap before it could spill.

"Holy shit, warn someone." One hand rested over his beating heart and he panted slightly.

Jojen gave an apologetic smile and Bran's heart started to pound for a different reason. "Sorry, I thought you heard me. I said your name."

He sighed and shook his head, his hair flopping around his face. "My bad. I'm distracted. My sister Arya is a huge twat and if she harrasses you I am so sorry."

Jojen shrugged and reached out to brush Bran's bangs out of his face. "That's fine. Honest."

Bran froze at the random touch but stayed in his place as cool fingertips brushed along the left side of his face. Jojen's face was soft and his eyes far away like he was day dreaming.

 _Wow, he doesn't even know he's doing this._ _Not that I mind of course._ He was definitely liking the look Jojen was giving him; like he was seeing Bran and seeing something else at the same time and definitely liking what he saw. Bran’s cheeks were turning pink from all of this attention.

Jojen blinked and pulled his hand back, his face red as rose. "Ah...um sorry about that. I, uh," he cleared his throat and Bran thought he couldn't look any cuter in that moment.

"It's okay, Joji." Bran smiled sweetly up at him. "If I can hug you, you can randomly caress my face."

For some reason that made Jojen blush even harder. He looked down at his shoes and nervously chuckled.

"Well, you have...nice skin...very soft." Jojen finally met his eyes.

"And you have nice shoulders. Perfect for my head." Bran put his hands on his wheels, pushing his chair back and forth. "Aren't we supposed to be going somewhere?"

Jojen let out a huff and nodded. "Right, lets go. I hope it isn't crowded at this time."

They started moving. Jojen paced his steps with Bran's wheels, his keys jingling by his hip.

Bran tried to watch Jojen and pay attention to where he was going and failing. He nearly ran into a girl and almost squished his hand between his wheels and a wall. That would have been painful. He would have cried.

"So where exactly are we going?"

"To a very special place for a very special Bran."

"Haha, very funny. Tell me."

Jojen shook his head and held the door open for Bran.

"You could have pushed the button."

Jojen shrugged. "Where's the fun in that? And I'm the perfect gentleman."

"We'll see about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of Dec. 6th, 2016, I have not abandoned this. But I had to rewrite/edit intensely if I was going to continue. I can say that not much has changed, but yeah. You're not missing out if you don't feel like re-reading it, I promise.


	4. This is what friends are for, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa Chapter

Sansa waited by Jeyne's locker, staring at her chipped nail polish. She was going to have redo it. It wasn't cute to walk around with busted nails. Gods, that was just _wrong._ It reminded her of middle school and when Sandra Black never retouched her nails and was always biting them off and spitting them out--ugh, Sansa was feeling nauseated just thinking about it. How that girl ended up with one of the hottest guys at North Winterfell High was beyond her.

Ten minutes passed and still no sign of Jeyne. Sansa considered just texting her but ended up just staring at her phone in boredom. She scrolled down Facebook, occasionally rolling her eyes at the basic posts her eyes were subjected to. Sure, she was pretty basic herself, but double standards didn’t exist in her world of Sansa Land. A few more minutes passed unnoticed until Sansa snapped out of her social media trance and looked around the hallway.

The only reason why she was standing around Jeyne's ungodly locker was so she could tell her about Bran. But of course, the girl was taking her sweet ass time today. Sansa was doing this out of the goodness of her heart, but even she wasn’t that nice for this long. She sighed and decided to wait anyway.

Better the truth come from her best friend instead of finding out later, right? Right. Because what if she fell in love with Bran? Sansa can already picture Jeyne coming to her with tears in her eyes and a tub of ice cream, ready to sob on her shoulder over her gay little brother.

Jeyne came around the corner then, smiling with Margaery on her arm. Sansa thought they both looked really cute today. Jeyne's long, dark brown hair tied in braids, with a cute bow holding it all together and Margaery letting her hair fall in thick curls. She took a moment to appreciate her friends, glad that they were all attractive like her.

Jeyne saw her other red headed friend and smiled in shock. "Sansa! What a surprise!" Jeyne cheered.

Sansa smiled at her two best friends. "Yes, yes, the queen is here."

"Oh, shut up, I'm the queen," Margaery said, folding her arms and stomping her foot.

"You're head _is_ big enough for the crown," Sansa teased.

They both laughed.

"But, really, you're usually long gone," Jeyne said while opening her creaky locker. "What's up?"

"Well," Sansa drawled. "I need to tell you something. And you need to believe me."

Jeyne's eyebrows furrowed and she gave the red haired girl a strange look. "Okay...?"

Sansa took a deep breath. Do it quickly. Like ripping off a band aid. "Bran's not into you."

Jeyne's eyebrows shot up. "W-what?"

"That's random," Margaery mumbled.

"Well it's true. I'm sorry, I really, really am. But he's...not into...girls." Sansa felt a little bad about spreading Bran's business (also because she wasn't 100 percent sure) but she didn't want her best friend to get hurt.

"I knew it," Margaery said. "Poor boy never had a girlfriend, never even looked at a girl. Even though he is at perfect eye level to all the girls butts."

Sansa glared at her. "Not helping, Margaery."

"Sorry." She didn't look or sound sorry.

Jeyne made a frustrated sound. "Sansa what are you talking about? Why are you telling me that Bran's gay?"

She gave her best friend a look that said please-stop-talking-and-just-listen. "Because you like him and I don't want you getting hurt." What part of that didn't she understand?

"Sansa...I," she sighed. "I don't like Bran. If I liked any of your brothers it would be Robb. He's hot and has a beard."

"Small beard," Margaery mumbled. "Rickon's a sweetheart, though. I'd wait for him,” she said wistfully, looking away at something the other girls couldn’t see.

Sansa, momentarily disturbed by what she just heard, frowned deeply. "Wait, you don't have feelings for Bran?"

Jeyne shook her head, looking at Sansa like she was crazy. Rightfully so. It was strange of her to make such assumptions like this. And usually if she did, she was right. "No. He's not really my type," she chuckled, albeit awkwardly.

"It's the wheelchair. If he weren't in it, would you?"

Jeyne looked flustered and probably a little embarrassed. "Honestly, no. He's weird and quiet. Plus, he's a sophomore. Sure he's cute, but, he seems just, I dunno, strange.."

Margaery lifted a finger. "It is called gaydar, my dear."

Sansa let out a relieved sigh. "Well what the fuck? Why did I think you had a crush on someone?" Sansa laughed breathlessly, running her hand through her hair.

"I do..." Jeyne blushed and looked into her old locker to get away from both Sansa and Margaery’s intense looks.

Sansa stopped laughing at once. "Who? Spill. Now."

Margaery gripped Jeyne's arm. "Who is it? Boy?" She wiggled her perfect eyebrows and smirked. "Girl?"

"Boy," she whispered shyly.

"Wel,l who is it? We don't have all day!"

Jeyne looked at them both, a shy smile on her lips. "You can't tell anyone."

"Yes, yes, we _know."_

"Alright." She took a deep breath as if she were about to do the scariest thing in her life. "Jojen."

Sansa tried to hide the confused what-the-hell expression. Jojen? Like that was any better. She wasn't trying to sell Jojen short. But from what she's seen, Jojen's just was weird as Bran. Why was Jojen better than Bran?

Margaery fist pumped the air. "Ha, ha, I knew it!"

"What do you mean _you knew_?" Jeyne looked even redder, if that was possible.

"I saw you giving him the eye in first hour."

Jeyne covered her face with her hands. "I'm so embarrassed! Do you think he saw?"

Margaery shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Gods no. He was way too into whatever he was writing."

"Hold on," Sansa broke her silence. "Why do you have a thing for him?"

Jeyne's big brown eyes were _melting_ as she speaks about him. "He's _mega_ cute and has the most beautiful green eyes in the whole world. His voice is _glorious_. And he likes to write so I bet he's romantic. And he smells good. And that blond hair...yeah." Jeyne's face was so red she looked like a cherry.

Margaery shook her head and was giving Jeyne a sympathetic look. "Girls got it bad."

"Is that smart? Jojen looked pretty comfortable wrapped around Bran." The blond looked especially happy when Bran rested his head on his shoulder.

Jeyne sighed. "I know. Why does this happen to me?"

By that she meant _Why do I always like the gay boys?_ Jeyne had this problem with liking all the guys who were irrevocably unobtainable. Like Jojen Reed. Like Loras Tyrell. Like Jon.

She did like guys that weren't gay but completely uninterested in her. Like Robb. And she even had a thing for Gendry, because he's, in her words, ruggedly handsome and those blue eyes just speak to her heart strings, or some shit like that.

Sansa just shrugged. "You like well groomed guys, not your fault they're mostly always gay."

Jeyne's head hung. "Forever. Alone."

Sansa met Margaery's eyes and they nodded. They hugged Jeyne's skinny body and cooed in her ear. "It'll be fine. You'll find the perfect man," and Margaery added, "or girl."

"Thanks," she muttered. "Let's go." Jeyne and Margaery left and Sansa slowly followed them she was in no rush since her dad was going to be a bit late.

She sat alone at the front stairs, absently picking at her nails. It wasn't even five minutes before someone came to bug her. Someone she wasn't expecting.

"Hey, little bird."

Sansa lifted her head at the gruff voice. Sandor stood a few away from her. One of his large hands was stuffed in his jacket pocket while the other was hanging limply at his side. The breeze shifted his hair away from the scarred side of his face and he hastily moved to fix it.

She didn't know what to say to him. Hi Sandor? How's it going? Beat up any kids today?

He seemed fine to continue. "You see Joffrey? Need to give the little shit a ride home," he started to step closer to her. With every step, her heart would pound erratically.

It took her a minute to concentrate. Sandor couldn't just show up out of nowhere after being gone all day. He couldn't just ask her questions like they were friends and call her boyfriend a little shit and stand in front of her like they were cool. Like, who the _fuck_ are you?

"No, he didn't show up at my locker after school." _Not that I was at my locker myself._ Sansa leaned back to be able to look the tall guy in the face. He was frowning, like always.

"Fuck that prick," he growled vehemently as if the words were poison he was spitting out, looking up at the cloudy sky like it just took a shit on his day.

"Why don't you just quit?" She tried for casual but her insides were shaking. That question seemed almost dangerous to her.

He glared at her, the right side of his face crumpled in agitation. "Fuck would I do that? It pays well, even though the kid is a nasty little bitch all the time."

"You always have the best names for him." Sansa smiled a bit, unsure of why she said that. She loved Joffrey...well, she thought she _should_ love him at least, even though deep down she agreed with Sandor and Arya. "Reminds me of my sister."

Sandor grunted like a pissed off wild animal. Jeez, this guy was just pulsing with anger. Sansa could feel the heat rolling off his skin. He gave a disdainful look over his shoulder before moving to sit next to her.

Sansa adjusted her bag, feeling almost uncomfortable but not quite sure what it was she was feeling. She remembered how Sandor called her little bird and color stained her cheeks.

"Why are you here so late?"

That shocked her. He was actually making normal conversation with her for once. _This_ , she thought, _will probably end horribly._ But despite that she replied back anyway.

"My dad had some appointment that ran late or some bullshit." Sansa made herself feel awkward at the fact that this was the first time they've been alone together. She tried to remember if there was any other time but her mind was coming up blank. It made her nervous as if this shouldn’t be happening, that they shouldn’t be alone together. Gods, what was her problem?

"Why are you alone? You're usually with all those screeching bitches or your shitty siblings."

She wondered if he could have a decent conversation without swearing so much. But that wasn’t the point...Sandor noticed her? Well, of course he did. She _was_ the cutest girl in school. But she didn't think that was it. She felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't cramps. She really wasn't surprised that Sandor would ruin that observation by being an ass.

"My _friends_ are all gone,” she informed testily, her face red from anger this time. “And I have no idea where Arya and Bran are. And they aren’t shitty, most of the time."

Sandor huffed disdainfully, crossing his arms over his knees and glaring at the pavement. "I don't like the cripple boy. Always runs over my feet."

"Then get out of his way. His chair isn't going to shrink," she snapped. Yeah, she might not get along with her siblings all the time, but Starks stick together, regardless. And she wasn’t going to let some low-life talk shit about her little brother.

Sandor glared at her for a long time. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

Sansa's face flushed with anger. "No one asked you to talk to me." She gathered her things and stood. She planned on walking away and waiting at the curb, but she already saw her dad's truck about to turn.

"Wait. I didn't mean it like that. Fuck, don't get your panties in a bunch." She heard him stand up but she knew he wasn’t going to come closer to her.

Sansa was still annoyed. _Didn't mean it like that, my ass. And my_ panties _are fine._ She glared at him from over her shoulder. "Then what did you mean?"

Sandor opened his mouth to say something but looked over his shoulder as Arya came out the school. He closed his mouth as she walked passed. Arya gave him a dirty look and stood next to Sansa.

"What's the Hound doing just standing there?" She asked but really didn't seem to care. "Weird asshole."

Ned drove up and waited for his kids to get in. The sounds of the radio drifted towards them. It was just awful.

"Just get in." Sansa hissed under her breath.

"Fine." Arya sulked in the passenger seat, without a fight for the first time ever.

Sansa didn't question why Arya was so compliant. She probably did it so she wouldn't have to fight for the seat. She looked back at Sandor expectantly.

"You're alright, little bird."

Sansa felt a shocked smile replace her frown.

"Sansa! Get your ass in the car!"

Fuck, Arya. Stupid little sister. She glared at her horsefaced sister and stuck her tongue out at her like a child. Arya just flipped her off.

Sandor was already walking away when Sansa looked back at him. She wanted to know why he said that, especially right after calling her a bitch.

She got in the truck, flicking away crumbs Rickon most likely left behind.

"Who was that young man?" Her father asked as he pulled out the parking lot. He was looked at Sansa with a knowing smile.

Sansa flushed. "He's...no one really."

Arya scoffed. "She right. He's just a guy." She snorted. "No, more like wild animal." Then she started to growl and claw at the ceiling.

Sansa rolled her eyes and stared out the window, still wondering what Sandor meant. _Little bird..._ she quite liked that name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell it's un-beta'd, I can. Leave your thoughts in the comments if you like. They would make me happy. 
> 
> Next is the brojen chapter c;


	5. We're all in love. We're all terrified.

The car ride was awkward to say the least.

Bran tried to look everywhere but at Jojen. When he did look over at the blond he was reminded by how short he was. But Bran kind of liked it. He didn't have to crane his neck up so high to look at him.

He also was silent. _What am I supposed to say?_ He's never been alone in a car with a boy before. Especially not an attractive boy he had a massive crush on. What does one even talk about once you have said attractive boy alone? Books? TV Shows? Sex? Okay, Bran knew damn well not to mention sex, but he was 15 and horny and couldn’t help it. Gods, he wanted to kiss the blond.

And to be fair, Bran wasn’t sure if it was because of the dreams that he kept having or the sheer fact that Jojen was _gorgeous_ for his almost painful need to rip the older teens clothes off already.

Bran thought it could be either one. Or both, which was just as likely.

And the dreams. Bran really needed to ask about those.

Jojen tapped his fingers against the wheel to the beat of the song. Jojen's car was so old it only had a cassette deck, but from the look of the overflowing amount of tapes sitting in the back, Jojen was well equipped. Bran didn't know what was playing but the lyrics were moody and sad and Jojen would whisper them and smile.

"Have you been over by the bridge before? I heard people say it was haunted or something." Jojen asked as he turned the corner. One hand was on the wheel and the other on the gear. Bran could reach out and hold it if he had the balls to, instead he just stared at the beautiful hand, remembering how it felt when it caressed his face.

Bran, along with everyone else at school, knew the bridge was just this place for teenagers to smoke pot and tag graffiti. So no, Bran has never been. And no, it wasn’t haunted. He had no idea why Jojen was so charmed by this place. But as they drove, Bran didn't see the telltale rabid cats scratching civilians or the drugged up teenagers stumbling around.

Well shit. This place was pretty normal.

"No, just heard about it."

Jojen nodded. "Oh. So you probably think everyone around here is pumped with drugs and swimming in poverty." Jojen looked at him from the corner of his eye, smirking.

"Yep. And that mortality rates go back to the Stone Age." Bran smirked at him, taking in the blonds profile. Jojen was even cuter at this angle, especially with that crooked smile.

"Well, what you've heard is mostly lies."

Bran chuckled at his matter-of-fact tone. Jojen was new to town but was acting like he knew so much. Bran knew Jojen wasn’t trying to be arrogant, so he just thought it was amusing. "That's unfortunate. What about the truth?"

They were stopped at a stop light. A painfully long stop light. Bran wondered what people did at stop lights when they liked each other. "The truth is only what you want to see. Open your eyes Bran."

He just stared at him, his head tilted to the side. Jojen turned his head and met his eyes unblinkingly. They stared at each other for a long time. Bran felt a smile tug at his lips. "Are you always so cryptic?"

"Yep," Jojen nodded. "Gonna have to get used to it."

"I think I can do that." The light turned green and Bran leaned back in his seat. He liked the way Jojen's car smelled, old leather and coffee and air freshener. He played with the tear in his jeans and listened to the music.

Yeah, he could get used to a lot of things.

They drove in silence until Jojen made a sharp and unexpected turn left. Bran grabbed the _oh shit_ bar and glared at the blond.

"Sorry." Jojen wasn't sorry. That bastard. He was laughing.

"You did that on purpose," Bran accused.

"So sue me. We're here."

They pulled up to an old two story bookstore covered in thick green vines like a second skin. The only way anyone could tell that this place was a bookstore was because the big ass sign that said Bookstore. It was standing between two other ordinary buildings with nothing but stone separating them.

Bran gave Jojen a questioning look. "Really?"

"Don't give me that look." Jojen got out and walked around to the back seat, ignoring Bran ("What look?") he opened the door and pulled Bran's wheelchair out, banging it against the side on accident. He even made a sad face at Bran after it happened.

"Careful! He's fragile." His face reddened in embarrassment. He should just sew his mouth shut because nothing he ever says makes him feel like less of an idiot.

Jojen paused, his pretty green eyes meeting Bran's through the right side mirror. "He?"

Bran blushed, damning himself to an enternity of shame and abstinence. "Um...I--well...my chair has a name. And a gender. We've become friends." _Why the_ fuck _do I keep talking? All I'm doing is making myself look like a total loser._

Jojen chuckled and shook his head and didn't look put off by his eccentricities. "He gets a face full of your ass all day, you'd better be friends." He sat the chair upright and opened the passenger door. "Need help getting into...?"

"Mr. Wheely." He flushed and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Don't judge me. I know it's lame, but it's short for The Extreme Chair of Wheely Power." He bit his lip and shook his head in shame. It wasn’t like he wanted to tell him that, but he just couldn’t stop talking even though he knew he sounded stupid. Jojen just opened him up like that for some reason.

He wouldn’t mind Jojen opening him up in other ways, but hey, he couldn’t have everything.

Jojen leaned against the back of the chair on his forearms. "Explain."

Bran quickly looked away. That was exactly what he didn’t want to do. But he did it anyway because Jojen wanted to know. "Rickon named it, actually. And no, I don't need help. I learned to adjust," he said as he moved to get in the chair. "If you don't then you're pretty fucked."

"Are you one with the chair--Mr. Wheely?" Jojen came up behind him and started to push him to the entrance, trying not to laugh.

"We've bonded in a way no one can understand," he said wistfully.

"Well, I'm jealous."

"If you were a wheelchair I'd sit on you all day." That’s what Bran called flirting. Run away from it if you can. He wondered why he wasn’t too ashamed of himself for that, but Jojen was chuckling behind him so it couldn’t have been _that_ bad.

"Don't need to be a chair for that." Jojen smirked and pulled the door open for him, letting Bran go first. "Told you I'm the Perfect Gentleman."

"Mhm, sure. So that's what you're calling this." Bran absently looked around the place. It looked like a regular bookstore, filled with books old and new. It smelled like one too. He didn't see why this place was so special. But if Jojen liked it so much, there had to be some reason for it.

"I bet you're thinking this place is lame and I'm a total loser." Jojen muttered, his fingers tapping against the upper bars on his chair. Bran could feel the vibrations at his back. It felt nice.

"Read my mind," he joked. He looked back at Jojen when he didn't say anything. Jojen was biting the inside of his cheek, looking disappointed. Bran's smile fell like someone smacked it off his face. "I was joking."

"Oh," Jojen chuckled awkwardly, his hand coming up to rub at his nape. "I'm a dumbass."

Bran smiled and reached out to grab the hand that wasn't nervously carding through his hair. Jojen looked down at their joined hands in shock. Bran did the same.

There must have been a reason to why every time they had contact it felt like some bizarre current was flowing through them, sparking recognition and something deeper between them. Whatever it was, Bran definitely approved of it.

 _But why did I do that? Why did I--wait, hold up. Is Jojen blushing?_ Bran started to grin because, yes, Jojen Reed was blushing. Because of him. He was completely adorable. Bran's never seen someone look so cute and, well, blushy.

 _At least I'm not the only one who blushes,_ he thought. He squeezed Jojen's hand and said, "Come on, Jojen, show me why this place is so great."

..o..o..o..

Jojen left him in the back and told him to wait there. Bran just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Then the blond ran off somewhere saying he was going to get something.

Bran was so staring at Jojen's butt when he ran away. Cute butt. Looks very firm. He’d like to touch.

He just sat there in the back of the bookstore in the little sitting area by the non-fiction, rolling his chair back and forth. Hey, at least they could be alone. Which was odd because he didn't see anyone else in the store at all, not even behind the register or hidden between the bookshelves. This place was empty.

A trickle of worry begun to seep in. It’s almost been ten minutes since Jojen left; Bran was staring at the clock on the wall. What if this was a trap? What if Jojen knew about Bran dreaming about him and didn't want people dreaming about him so now he's going to come back with a chainsaw and cut off--

Jojen did come back, but in his hands was two non-descript coffee cups and not a deadly weapon.

Bran calmed down mid unnecessary panic attack and took the hot coffee that was handed to him. Delicious mocha smells drifted to his nose and he beamed at Jojen. He didn’t question where he got the coffee from, ‘cause really, who questions free coffee?

"I love mochas,” he told him after he sipped on it and then set it down on the small side table.

Jojen looked pleased with himself. "I know."

"What else do you know?"

"I know many things about you, Bran." Jojen sat down next to him in one of the squishy brown leather chairs. "I know that you hate the thunder because it hurts your ears, and that you hate romantic movies because they're predictable and shitty. And that for your thirteenth birthday you got all these homemade sweaters from Old Nan, and they're all horrendous but you still wear them because you like the way they smell."

Bran smiled in shock because all of that was true. "How do you know that?" Especially the thing about Old Nan’s sweaters, which he’s never told. Not even when Old Nan died. He kept that to himself.

Then Jojen gave him this look, the kind of look where someone is looking into the very depths of your soul, or maybe just edging around it. Bran wanted to look away but he resisted and met his gaze head-on, even if he felt slightly awkward and self conscious. He didn’t know what Jojen could possibly be seeing.

Suddenly Jojen was really close and still getting closer. Jojen's slender fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck and prevented him from escaping, but Bran wasn’t planning on moving away. He could smell the caramel from Jojen’s mocha on his breath and he found himself imagining what it would be like to lick it off Jojen’s lips.

"You dream of me, too, Bran. I know you do. I saw it when we met for the first time. But you have to know that it’s more than that. It’s our past. Our future." Jojen bit his lip, something Bran thought should be illegal in every country. He blinked, though, once the words he heard actually made it to his brain and connected.

Bran was glad they were finally going to talk about the dreams. Jojen seemed to know a ton more about it than him. But that fact that they both were having dreams was too weird to be true. He shook his head, collecting his thoughts and tried not to let Jojen’s close proximity distract him. “Wait, so, you’re telling me we both have dreamed about each other before we’ve even met each other?”

“Yes,” he said it with such conviction that there was no way Bran could disbelieve him. “We’ve met each other in the past. And...we had such a strong connection that it came back years later.” He frowned, looking a bit worried. “That...that doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“No!” Bran blushed. “I mean, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you, but no...I don’t mind.” He looked back at Jojen, into his stunning green eyes and smiled. “I’m glad I met you. Then and now.”

Jojen smiled sweetly and looked away. There was a noticeable blush spreading across his face and he looked shyly at Bran through his blond lashes. "I wanted to do this better but..." he shook his head.

"What?"

The older teen hesitated for only a second before huffing. "Would you really have kissed me that day, or was I just seeing shit?"

Well _fuck_. That was not what Bran expected him to say. His mind went blank and he sort of just sat there staring, flailing inside. _Uhhh...what do I say to that?_ Jojen made him look him in the eye so Bran was forced to stare into his bright green eyes, and that definitely wasn’t helping him since every time he looked into Jojen’s eyes his brain shut down. He couldn’t help it; those green eyes were gorgeous.

He blinked and remembered that Jojen had asked him something. He thought back to--fuck yesterday, and the moment where he had almost kissed Jojen. He blushed uncontrollably. "My brain talked me out of it."

Jojen licked his lips and Bran lost his breath a little. He should not do that either!

"Would you kiss me now?"

 _Ha! That was a stupid question_. Hell yeah he would kiss him. He was already leaning forward, choosing to show Jojen rather than tell him.

Kissing was weird but enjoyable. Lips felt weird. They didn't really taste like how he thought they would, or maybe Bran just didn’t know what he was doing. It was like skin, but Bran thought he tasted coffee too...either way he liked the way Jojen tasted. Jojen's lips were warm and felt incredibly satisfying against his. Soft but definitely dominate. And they kissed back immediately, with Jojen's hands cupping his face and his thumbs caressing Bran’s cheeks.

When they first kissed something clicked and all those dreams came rushing back, but with the actual feel and taste of Jojen's lips. Kissing Jojen felt familiar but foreign at the same time, like riding a bike after years of not doing so. He felt nervous but comfortable. A warm surge of something like electricity shot through him, pooling at his stomach, and he felt his breath hitch and the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

 _This is right,_ was all he could think as he kissed Jojen back with as much passion as he could muster.

He supposed sometime he parted his lips but he couldn't be sure when. He was just breathing against Jojen's lips, his hands clutching Jojen's shirt, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

And then Jojen did something strange. He started breathing in the air Bran was exhaling, like it was his only source of air. Bran had no choice but to do the same. Their lips were just barely touching, warmed and almost kiss swollen, and they just _breathed_ together. There was something incredibly intimate about that.

Jojen's breath tasted like the coffee they drank and Bran supposed his did too.

Their eyes met, green to blue, and it was like seeing each other for the first time but in a new light.

"Jojen?"

"Yes, Bran?" His fingers wiggled in Bran's soft hair, now placed against the back of his neck and gently touching his skin.

With all the seriousness he could muster he asked, "Doyouget _those_ dreamsaboutmetoo?" He couldn't of failed harder if he tried. Actually, no, he probably could have. He felt warm with embarrassment and the anxiety of asking someone if they ever dream of fucking him. He really didn’t know how he was holding himself together so well. His insides felt like they were about to burst out of his body.

Jojen started to smirk and he gave Bran a highly amused look with his head tilted to the side. "Excuse me?"

Shit. He wished Jojen just understood him. Or if they could communicate via telepathic link. Man, that would be _so_ fucking cool. But seeing as they didn’t he had to do this the old fashioned way.

He let out a deep breath and started over. "Do you...have dreams about me...dreams that aren't, uh, strictly PG?" The type of dreams with sex even HBO couldn't show.

Jojen's eyebrows shot up and his smirk fell, leaving him looking dumbstruck. His face flushed bright red and he looked away. Bran could feel the heat of embarrassment roll off of him too. He probably should have brought that up on a different day. Maybe after they’ve known each other for more than two days. Maybe four would have been better.

“Sorry, did I make this even more awkward than necessary? I was just wondering if I’m a huge pervert or if it was mutual.” Bran mumbled, ducking his head. He wanted to die.

“No,” Jojen mumbled back. “I, uh, get those too.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. For someone who was so into deep staring, Jojen wouldn’t even look at him now.

Bran felt laughter bubble up and he let it out, laughing so hard his head fell back. His laughter must have been contagious because he heard Jojen’s laughter follow his. They just sat there laughing for maybe five minutes, tears leaking out the corner of their eyes and sounding hysterical. This entire situation was just so odd and they both didn’t really know how to deal with it.

Laughter always works. You could count on laughter.

“Jojen,” Bran started to say after his laugh attack subsided, but he honestly didn’t know what to say. He wanted to ask so many things but all he could think about now was sex. Well, more than he normally did. He started laughing again. “Oh my gods, Jojen, I can’t think now.”

The blond was still slightly red, from both laughing and most likely thinking about sex. “Yeah, same. Everytime I try to think of something to say…” he shook his head like something kept distracting him.

Bran put his hand on Jojen’s because he liked the way they felt. He bet they would feel really good on his body. See? There he goes, thinking about sex. He couldn’t help it, he was a teenager. “With a blush like that, I must be killer in the sheets. At least we know we’re both huge perverts. I won’t hide my perversions if you don’t.”

Jojen smiled and shook his head, looking at Bran in wonder. “You’re taking this well. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know...I happen to like the dreams you’re in. They’re better than my usual dreams. I mean, I still think all of this might be a super long vivid dream, but…” he felt himself shrugging again and he looked into Jojen’s eyes. “I guess we’ll figure out what this all means someday.”

“Bran?” Jojen said somewhat hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you,” he said matter-of-factly, not even looking embarrassed or nervous. He made it seem like he was commenting on the weather or something mundane like that.

 _Holy fuck, how many times is he going to make me speechless in one day?_ Bran was yet again just sitting there staring, flailing inside. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t think he was in love with Jojen, not yet at least. So he just sat there and hoped Jojen understood that his awkward as fuck silence wasn’t because he was freaked out (well, just a little) but because he didn’t know how to respond to that.

The blond just rolled his eyes and took a sip out of his coffee that was probably lukewarm. “Don’t panic, I know it’s too soon for you. Just letting it out there for my own sake. You can breathe now.”

Bran hadn’t even realized he stopped breathing when he exhaled. He let out a shaky laugh. “Too soon for me?”

“Well, you’ve only gotten the dreams for about..what, six months? And I’ve been getting them for nine years. So yeah, way too soon.”

Bran gaped and it was most likely highly unattractive. He didn’t care. “Holy shit! Nine years? How are you sane?” He shook his head in amazement. “I think I need a nap.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jojen asked but it was obvious he really didn’t want to. Or maybe that was Bran just projecting his feelings onto him. Either way the answer was the same.

“What? No! Tell me more about these dreams of ours, love,” he winked and smiled.

Jojen smiled and laughed, ducking his head. Gods, he was so attractive. Bran wanted to reach over and kiss him. So he did. And he must have taken Jojen by surprise because the boy gasped and almost dropped his coffee. Bran smiled at the effect he had on him when he pulled away. Jojen was a little pink and a lot flustered.

“Hey, Jojen,” Bran waited until Jojen was looking at him. “Don’t worry about the love thing, ‘cause I’m totally falling for you.”

And then Jojen gave him probably the largest smile he’s ever seen and it made him the happiest person alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts


	6. In the end, we're all fucked up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets laid and realizes some shit.

Grey blue smoke curled up from her lips, twisting in the air like snakes. A lone wisp of smoke floated from the opening of the bong, joining the smoke from her lips like lovers embracing and becoming one, wispy being. A lightness settled over her and she took another hit.

Arya’s eyes fluttered shut, the heady high filling her head, lungs holding in smoke until the burn went away and she breathed out, smoke leaving her in a small puff. Her throat was dry when she held out the glass bong, warm fingers encasing hers before the weight disappeared. She felt heavy but lucid and when she opened her eyes her room looked brighter than before. A feeble ray of light glowing through the blue curtains made Arya’s room soft and dull and the sleepy blue around her made her crave more rest. An urge to wrap herself up ran through her mind, but her thick comforter was crumpled in a heap somewhere at the end of her bed, so that was pointless.

And it didn't help that she had company.

Arya’s legs spread out and brushed the pleasantly warm body in front of her. Jaqen H’ghar slid his hand onto her ankle, his long, tanned fingers wrapped around her slim leg. Jaqen’s stare made her squirm against her headboard. A smile twisted at his lips and her stomach clenched anxiously. His hand moved up her leg, making a warm trail up and to her knee where his hand stayed, warm and steady.

She threw back her head and smirked at him. “Keep going.” His hand continued up her thigh, tightening his hold when his thumb was only an inch from her underwear. His thumb brushed the hem lightly and he questioned her with his eyes. She rolled hers, her stomach rolling. This wasn’t their first time. “Keep going,” she repeated softly.

He set the bong on the floor and both his hands felt along her thighs. They were hot and big and felt amazing on her body. She leaned up into him, sinking down onto her pillows, and reached out for him. Her hands skated along his tanned shoulders, scratching her nails into yielding flesh. He dipped down and caught her mouth in a consuming kiss. Their kiss was harsh and deep, Jaqen’s mouth seeming to swallow her, absorbing her in a terrifyingly comfortable way.

The older man’s hand slid up to her hip, his long fingers spreading out and curling back in, nails digging pleasurably into her skin. A surprised gasp escaped her when his thumb sneakily found her clit and began rubbing against her. She shuddered and pushed back when his thumb added pressure and moved lower, and started rubbing her clit up and down. Her moan was muted by Jaqen’s tongue. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, teeth scraping against the muscle, before soothing it with his own tongue.

He pulled back in order to kiss down her jaw and to her neck, sucking at her pulse point hard enough to feel good but not enough to bruise. Her hand tangled into his hair, on the red side, and she pulled his mouth back up to hers. Their tongues touched again and her body tingled. Jaqen ran his other hand under the baggy sleep shirt she wore to bed, feeling her smooth, pale skin and that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He cupped her left breast as Arya pressed her body against his, rolling her hips into his fingers, and quietly crying out his name. His fingers teased her opening, coating them in her wetness. He groaned into her mouth, whispering her name against her tongue.

“Let me take this off,” Arya pushed him away enough so that she could take off the shirt. She was naked now, her pale, bare skin flushing at the way Jaqen was looking at her. The thing she liked best was how warm he always was. His eyes made her melt and his hands sent shivers down her spine whenever they touched her right. Like now. One hand was working between her legs while the other was rolling her nipples and squeezing her breast. She arched into those hands and let out a high whimper when his mouth suddenly closed around her clit.

“Ahh... _Oh…_ fuck--” Arya covered her mouth with her arm, sinking her teeth down, wincing when her sharp incisors pierced her skin. Heat flushed her skin pink, sweat making her body slick. Pleasure pulsed through her every nerve, leaving her lightheaded and craving more.

Arya started to buck her hips up into the tongue that was wetly fucking her. She dripped with need, her clit throbbing harder with each stroke from the skilled muscle. She wiggled her hips and tried to grind down on him but his calloused hands holding her slim thighs forced her still.

She whined in annoyance, pushing back her mortification at making such a wanton sound. But the pleasure was driving her crazy, lick by lick, and they’ve been going at it for a while. “Jaqen, just fuck me,” she panted, feeling sweat drip warmly down her neck. She shouldn’t need to beg; not when Jaqen wanted her just as much. His eyes were more pupil than brown iris and she could feel his erection rubbing against her calf.

Jaqen breathed hotly against her while his mouth sucked her between his lips. Arya felt him moan more than she heard it. The pleasant vibrations shot right through her. She let out an impatient moan, and squeezed her eyes shut, dripping into his mouth. A finger slid into her where a tongue used to be. She was so wet and ready that it went into her without effort. Gods, it was just what she wanted. Jaqen entered his middle finger and he rubbed her silky walls.The rough pad of his thumb played with her aching clit. He pulled his long fingers out before pushing back in. In and out.

In and out. And so deep.

Arya was going to lose it soon. It had been too long already since the last time she had sex with anyone and the last time she got off was about two weeks ago. Her frustration had only grew now that she didn’t have Gendry to grind on whenever she felt the urge. But she was about to get some well needed cock in a few more strokes and that’s all she thought about.

That’s all she could think about. All that mattered.

His fingers were pressing deep in her, curling up and spreading out, but it just wasn’t enough. Even when those fingers hit her spot, making her body shiver and her thighs clench, it just wasn’t enough. Jaqen’s cock was stiff and red and she couldn’t wait any longer to get it inside her. She just had to feel it stretching her out and filling her up.

The condom on her nightstand fell into her hand and she ripped it open. “Jaqen,” she tugged a fist full of red hair and pulled his face up. His mouth was swollen and red, wet from his spit and her cum. He licked his wet lips slowly and looked at her expectantly. She gave a breathless smile. Gods, he was attractive as _hell_. Beautiful tanned skin, a sexy smile, deep brown eyes, and a body that he obviously worked hard for. He was so damn hot. Arya felt tingles spread throughout her body at the thought of what that body was about to do to her. “As much as I like you down there, I want you up here. In me.” Her cheeks got warmer the more she spoke, hardly believing she could say things like this and not in a joking manner.

The man gave her a sly smirk. “A girl gets what a girl wants.” He crawled up her body, leaving burning kisses into her skin. His hand cupped her breast and his tongue circled her hard nipple. He sucked and nipped, while taking her hands and putting it to his cock. She rolled the condom on him and positioned him to her entrance.

Arya roughly pulled Jaqen to her and kissed him, feeling herself open up to him and tasting herself on his lips. Jaqen groaned into her mouth deeply as he pushed inside her. Her body shook under him when all of him was finally inside of her. He didn’t stop until his balls pressed against her. She tried to hold back the moan that threatened to burst out of her. He grinded his hips into her, trying to get as deep as possible. She swore she felt it in her stomach. “Yeah...just like that,” she moaned against his shoulder as he began to thrust. His hands were gripping her slim hips and squeezing. She wanted it harder. She wanted to feel it bruise.

“H-harder.” Her whimper was rewarded with Jaqen fucking her properly. Hips angled just right that he brushed against her g-spot with each thrust. He grunted and pinned her body down with his as he fucked her deeper and harder. Her slippery wet cunt gladly took his dick pounding into her, clenching and sucking him in. She burned him like an inferno and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Arya bucked her hips up to meet his, rocking her body with his. She pressed the heels of her feet into his backside in order to feel him even deeper. She let out a strangled groan, getting even more turned on by the wet sounds their bodies made with every connection. Jaqen sucked the soft skin of one breast and squeezed the other in his hand. He pulled her nipple harshly with his fingers and sucked it in apology when her nails dug into his back.

But she liked the pain and so he did it again.

The pace their bodies were moving increased to the point of the bed banging against the wall and the mattress creaking under them. Arya fingered her clit and wrapped her legs around Jaqen’s waist all while Jaqen pounded into her relentlessly. She felt her climax building, coiling sharply in her stomach, a white-hot mass that spread out at the base of her spine. She was almost screaming in pleasure, pressing her face into the pillow to drown out some of her louder whines. She drenched the sheets when she came and Jaqen continued to fuck her until his thrusts lost control and he came roughly. His hips slapped against her a few more times before he stilled.

If she blacked out, she didn’t know, but the next thing she knew what Jaqen kissing her softly as if they had just made love instead of fucked like animals. She kissed him back, too tired and satisfied with herself. His mouth tasted like her cum, which wasn’t as bad as she thought. As much as that thought sort of grossed her out, she mentally shrugged it off, because under the taste of her cum was the taste of Jaqen; cinnamon and black coffee and flesh.

When Jaqen pulled away he leaned up on his elbows and smiled lazily down at her. Arya knew this as his I-just-fucked-you-so-good-your-grandchildren-will-feel-it look. She chuckled softly, a little exhausted, and brushed his messy red hair back from his sweaty face, smoothing back the wet strands behind his ear. Jaqen kissed her hand at the sweet gesture.

“Do you want me to drive you to school?” Jaqen ruined the bubble of post-coitus happiness by reminding her that she was, in fact, supposed to be in second hour right now.

She let out a hoarse groan, realizing with a slight blush that her voice would be scratchy from all the curses and moans. She glanced at time on her phone, gauging how long it would take her to get dressed and if it was even worth it. Going to school would only dampen her mood, and she _really_ wanted to hold on to this light carefree feeling she had right now. _So no_ , she decided, _I will not be going to school today. It’s not like it will miss me._

“Nah, I don’t feel like going. Plus I didn’t do my calculus homework and my math teacher’s a bitch. I so do not want to deal with that today.” Arya leaned off the edge of the bed to grab the baggy shirt she slept in last night. She was already so skinny that the shirt just swallowed her up.

Jaqen discarded the condom and wrapper and slipped on his tight boxer briefs. Arya eyed his nice butt when he bent over to pull his jeans on. She was almost disappointed when he pulled on his shirt, his sculpted body hidden from her now. He looked at her from over his shoulder, a slight smile gracing his lips. “You do not like your school.”

“Nope,” it wasn’t a question but she answered anyway. “That school could blow up and even the teachers would celebrate. Me? I’d light a cigarette from the flames.”

Jaqen chuckled, turning to sit at the edge of her bed. “Didn’t know a school like that could hold someone like you.”

Arya scoffed. “Not even. I don’t even know why I still go. I doubt I’ll go to college--” She froze, realizing then that she just spoke words she only thought about and hearing the truth in them. She probably _wasn’t_ going to college, unlike all her siblings. She already knew how her father would be disappointed and her mother would try her best to force her to go, but...she just couldn’t imagine her future with college in it. Robb and Jon are in their sophomore year and love it and Sansa’s planning on going to King’s Cross University next year, and that’s all great for them, but Arya wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. She wouldn’t be another pencil-pushing, do-it-all like the rest.

“Then where will a girl go?” Jaqen asked with no judgement in his voice. Arya never asked if he went or if he ever finished high school even. Things like that never came up--and why would it? They only fooled around and got each other out--although mostly _in_ \--bad situations, not talk about their futures--or lack of them. She barely knew anything about him.

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her folded legs, something empty stirring in her chest. She tried to pushed it away by changing the subject. “Are you hungry? I am. I could really go for something sweet.” She shot up off the bed, the long shirt falling around her bony knees. She didn’t bother waiting for his answer before running down into the kitchen.

The entire house was empty, save for the giant dogs that surrounded her, threatening to trip her, until she pushed them away. Arya busied herself with breakfast, ignoring Jaqen’s silent presence behind her. She half-assed some pancakes and was partially surprised when they came out alright. Her hands were shaking when she poured the heated up syrup over her pancakes and syrup dripped sloppily to the floor. She cursed and crouched down to wipe it up. When she stood up Jaqen was standing in front of her, swiping a finger in a puddle of syrup and sucking it into his mouth.

“Is something wrong?” Jaqen asked when she shakily grabbed her plate and walked to the table.   
  


Arya couldn’t think of any words that could describe how she felt just then. It was like she was enclosed within her mind with only her racing thoughts as company and she couldn’t move her body right. It felt like a bad body high, where she just sat on the couch like a vegetable and nothing substantial came to mind. But now, in between syrupy bites, all she could think about was how true her words felt. College was a world away from her, it was its own planet, its own lifestyle. And she couldn’t imagine herself in that world, worrying about a missed seminar or an essay to write. She didn’t care for campuses or dorms or stupid college parties. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to be like everyone else and decide a future at eighteen, and she didn’t want to become a soulless, corporate douchebag.

Jaqen quietly slid in the chair beside her. He was always quiet, always analyzing and figuring things out. Not much missed him and he could pinpoint a weakness quicker than breathing. That’s what she liked about him, that and their easy companionship. He didn’t ask anything of her and she didn’t either. They were just two people finding enjoyment in the small things in life. He knew more about her than she did of him but she was okay of that. She sort of figured that Jaqen had a shady past, seeing as he didn’t have family or any friends and he hung around the Hanged Man’s Den at the other side of the bridge. But she didn’t judge him or want him to be a different person.

“The girl is worried about her future.”

She never did understand why he referred to her as “the girl” but she didn’t mind it. “Yeah...I don’t know what I’m going to do after high school. I sort of just imagined my life as working at the company with dad.”

“And the girl would do this her whole life? Wouldn’t she get tired of it?”

That was something she hadn’t really thought about. Well, none of this conversation she ever really thought about. She made herself busy with friends and fencing that she pushed away any thought of what she’d do after high school. She didn’t have any other talents besides her fighting that could land her a career. She could steal, pick locks, guzzle beer like water and not have a hangover, and out smoke the biggest pothead in Winterfell. But that wouldn’t get her anywhere but in a ditch without her kidneys or something just a gruesome. But Arya could see herself working with her dad, laboring over car parts and engines covered in oil. She didn’t think she would get tired of it, her dad surely hadn’t, but she wasn’t her dad and now she wasn’t sure.

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know, Jaqen. My dad's been running the company since he graduated, well, college. But I know I wouldn’t have to. It’s family owned and run, of course I would get a job there.”

“And what if your father refuses you a job until you go to college?”

Arya looked at the handsome man indignantly. “My dad wouldn’t do that.”

Jaqen shrugged and took another small bite. “And why would he let you? Wouldn’t he want you to have a successful future? What if you found that you didn’t like working at the company?”

“I love the company. I wouldn’t get tired of it.” Even to her, she sounded unsure of that. “I know he wants me to be successful, he wants that for all of us, but he wouldn’t force me to do something that I know I didn’t want.”

“And your mother, would she allow it?”

Arya scoffed again, not really thinking about why she hadn’t diverted the conversation yet. “Fuck no. That’s the problem. Knowing her she will probably send in applications for me. She would never let me skip out on college. Her sister did, and now she’s stuck in a shitty marriage with her sugar daddy and has an even shittier son. But it’s not like I’m going for a sugar daddy, that’s just stupid. And gross. Jon Arryn is, like, seventy and Aunt Lysa is nearing forty.”

Even Jaqen grimaced at that.

Arya moved her empty plate away and put her head on the table. “I don’t know what to do.”

Jaqen rested his hand on her shoulder. “College will always be there if you decide to go. And a person like you always has a choice and the will to follow through.”

Arya peeked at him through her fringe, now realizing her hair was a little greasy. “Yeah…” she cleared her throat,” you’re right. College isn’t going anywhere. Don’t know how well that will go with my mom, but it’s worth the try.”

“You have another year, too,” he reminded her.

She smiled into her arms. “Double right.”

Jaqen laughed warmly, like the dripping syrup on his fork. “Whatever the girl decides to do, she’ll do it brilliantly.” Jaqen wasn’t smiling when she looked at him again. She knew what he was doing, picking through her armor until he found her weakness. “There is something else that worries you.”

Arya refused to meet his eyes. She stared at the living room wall across the room and picked at her nail, contemplating the family photo hanging on the wall. “There’s nothing else.”

“Then why did you call me so urgently this morning if it was nothing?”

“I was horny and I knew you’d deliver.” That might have come out meaner than she had wanted but she would rather offend her friend then discuss _that_.

“That is true, but I seem to recall that you had a boyfriend. Or whatever he was to you.”

Arya bristled at that. It was one thing to think about it casually, in an offhand manner that she wouldn’t consider hard enough to matter, and it was another to talk about it. With words. From her mouth. Reflecting her inner thoughts for Jaqen and anyone else to know. Arya would hold her deepest thoughts close to her, lest someone decided to use them against her. She had gone through enough shit for a lifetime in middle school. And there was no part of her that wanted to talk to Jaqen about Gendry, or anything Gendry related.

“It’s really none of your business. You don’t get to ask questions about my life,” she said a bit harshly, sitting up in her chair straighter. The sudden shift in topics forced her back on her toes, and she was weary again. “You don’t tell me a thing about your life and you expect to get to know mine.”

Jaqen looked taken aback. Then his expression settled back into blankness just as quickly. He nodded politely and stood up. "I wasn't aware you wanted to know. But I have nothing to tell you of myself. I have no self to tell."

Arya rolled her eyes. "That sounds like a bullshit excuse if I ever heard one. Let me guess, you're married and have two kids. Or, no, you're an escaped convict, aren't you? You do seem a bit sketchy. You have sketchy friends at least."

"Don't judge a person for the company they keep."

"Why not? Because it's so guilt by association?" Arya scoffed and moved away from him and out of the kitchen. She stood between the threshold of the living room and kitchen, feeling more daring now that she was getting pissed. Anger was one of the few emotions she knew how to feel through and through, and she used that to her advantage. "I know you had something to do with the fire that killed Alfryd Snow. I don't know why you would have something to do with that unless you were in on the trafficking shit those guys were into. But, then again, I don't know anything about you." She steeled herself and pointed to the front door. "Just get out."

Jaqen frowned at her. "If that is what a girl wishes."

"Well it is, so get your shit and leave."

It was terribly anticlimactic how Jaqen H’ghar left so quickly, without even trying to get her to reconsider. Arya didn’t know if that was a thing to be admired or not. But she watched him leave and disappear into his car then disappear to wherever the fuck he was going. Probably to do some shady things with shady people in the shady part of town where she had first met him when she was a freshman. In the end, Arya realized she didn’t give any fucks to where he ended up. He made her realize something more important than his whereabouts.

She ran up the stairs with Nymeria on her heels and into the large bathroom she shared with Sansa. Nym was wagging her tail and sticking her tongue out at Arya as the girl turned on the shower and got undressed. Arya stopped thinking it was weird for her wolf to want to be in the bathroom with her when she showered. She just saw it as Nym wanting to make sure she was always safe.

Arya showered quickly and thoroughly, wanting to get the smell of sex and Jaqen off of her as soon as possible. Afterwards she dressed in another large shirt and flounced on her bed with his wolf, reaching out for her phone on her nightstand. Without overthinking it, she sent out a quick text to the boy who thought she was beautiful:

**Can we talk??**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do.


	7. Feisty blond boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working on 8 as we speak

Sansa woke up in a sort of daze, not quite sure if she was still dreaming or not. She was surrounded by the warmth of her thick blanket that was perfectly snug around her body. But even half asleep she thought she heard her name was being whispered in her ear.

Her eyes slowly blinked but she was too tired to keep them open for long, and everything in her room was blurry. Or it might have just been because of her crusted over mascara, which was seriously gross. Sansa rolled onto her side and tried to will herself back to sleep before she woke up too much and stayed up. Her body stiffened with a yawn.

“ _Sansa...Sansa...Sansa_.”

There was that voice again...soft and gruff so she must have been still asleep. It was just a weird dream. It had to be a weird dream. But there was no darkness of a dream and she was she still heard that gruff voice whispering in her ear, seeming like _he_ \--because she knew it was a man’s voice--was right next to her.

“Sansa...Sansa...Sansa.”

It was like a prayer, being said over and over by a voice that was so familiar yet she couldn’t place it in the fuzzy haze of confusion and comfort. Sansa. Sansa. Sa--

 _Sansa! Sansa! Sansa!_ The voice changed, harsh as a whip slapping it across her face. It was still a voice in her head calling her name, but not nearly as consoling. Insistently, it chanted her name, mocking her in a high, sneering voice. It was a high pitched, hostile voice, one all too familiar. Sansa. Sansa. Sansa! Sansa! SANSA!!

“Shut up!” She screamed at nothing, flinging her pillow against the wall. She thought she would see Joffrey standing at the end of her bed, pointing an accusing finger at her and sneering, something he’s been doing a lot lately. But all she saw was her desk and nothing else and that’s when she realized she woke up.

She fell back into her pillow and felt her cheeks burn along with her eyes. _Stop it. I cannot be weak_. She couldn’t believe she was about to cry, but she pushed it back and focused on her poster of the Stormcrows hidden in the corner. She had gotten it from Arya a few years back when the younger girl found out Sansa harbored a love for the alternative band.

 _It was just a dream_ , she told herself attempting to placate herself. _Just a dream. It wasn’t real._ But she couldn’t fall asleep and everything that just happened stuck with her. She still heard Joffrey’s voice in the back of her head, a nasty, malicious thing.

..o..o..o..

Sansa’s day was just getting worse by the minute.

It started off with her dazing off so long that she missed her alarm. When she tried to shower, the water shot out jets of boiling hot water that left her back bright red. She managed to dress herself accordingly in her only clean pair of comfortable jeans and a school sweater that used to belong to Robb. But when she tried to eat with the rest of her family, she burnt her toast, spilled orange juice all over the table, and banged her knee on the counter. Swearing quietly, she settled for yogurt only to have Shaggydog jump up and take a big slobbery lick out of her bowl. She gave up after that.

Now, the effects of not eating breakfast or sleeping were creeping up on her. Sitting in the middle of class with her teacher going on and on, her urge to leave the classroom steadily grew. _I’m dying_ , she thought, laying her head on her arms, her stomach clenching with hunger. _I’m dying and it’s all my fault._ It was impossible to pay attention to anything but the uncomfortable feeling eating at her, not with her eyeballs about to burst out of her skull.

A kid a few seats behind her was snoring into his arms, probably not caring if he might be drooling either. Envy bubbled in her aching stomach. She was too self conscious to be that open like that around her peers. And she’s never fallen asleep in class before so she didn’t want to start doing it today. But the need to sleep was nagging at her, her eyes drooping and her head sagging into her arms.

And she knew that if she did go to sleep right now, her teacher would actually notice something going amiss in her class and Sansa would get detention but not the other kid.

She sat it out, staring bleakly at the teacher but completely out of her body. She wouldn’t have noticed if a storm tore the building to shreds at that moment. When the bell rang she didn’t notice, and so the sleeping kid, a kid with dyed, dark blue hair and a few piercings in his ear, shook her shoulder and called her name.

“Sansa.”

She jumped a little and tried to cover it up by stretching, but still felt like that didn’t do anything but make her look stupid. Her muscles still ached either way. She was becoming uncomfortable in her own skin. She gave the blue haired kid...something like Mario but not that...Maario Harris--

(Something like that. Whatever.)

\--she gave him a polite smile and grabbed her things. “Thanks.” She stood and felt his stare as she walked out the room, turning right to the staircase.

She was losing it, probably. People were noticing. She could see the stares and hear the hushed whispers behind her as she walked up the stairs. Everywhere she went she was uneasy. Now she was losing herself in her own body, in her own head.

It all seemed to be down to one reason and one reason alone: Joffrey.

He's been a real prick lately, as Arya would put it. But that doesn't even cover it. He’s been nasty to her for days. Calling her names like useless and stupid. All Thursday and Friday he glared at her and claimed that everything she said was idiotic. He stepped on her feet on purpose, but yelled at her and said she was in his way. He laughed at her when she was in pain. He made her feel like complete garbage.

When the weekend came she tried to text him. She hoped that he was only acting that way in front of his friends. But he replied to her sweet text with scorn, saying that he had better things to do than see her. All weekend she was confused because she didn’t know if that was his way of breaking up with her or not. She worried herself sick and she didn’t know why.

Why waste time crying over a boy like that? Arya would say she was stupid. And Robb would most likely threaten to kick the Baratheon’s ass and Jon would just give her some bullshit line and avoid her, and Bran would run over Joffrey's toes. At least she knew some of her family could back her up.

She might as well go home and try to go to sleep. She was completely useless here.The school nurses will understand and let her leave due to exhaustion.

If not she would just leave during lunch.

Luckily, she didn’t have to bullshit her way out of school. The old school nurse, Ms. Mordane, said she looked awful and just rambled on about how she was such a poor thing for getting her health so bad. Sansa was only half listening to the frantic old woman as she wrote the details down of why she was leaving. The old nurse gave her a pat on the back as she left.

Sansa just wanted to be alone.

..o..o..o..

Bran noticed that Jojen was just sitting there staring at him, with his arms wrapped around his knees. His mossy green eyes looking fondly at him. Jojen’s book was left next to him, faced down and untouched for several minutes.

Bran’s eyebrow quirked up. “What?”

The kind of dazed look didn’t leave Jojen’s eyes and he was trying not to smile. “Nothing...I’m just appreciating you.”

A small bit of heat warmed his neck and maybe his cheeks but it was hardly noticeable. His head tilted to the left, his lips pressed together in a pleased smile. “Continue then.” He returned to reading, but not long after he started to smile, losing focus on the words, because all he could think of was Jojen’s words.

 _Appreciating me, huh? Alright, go ahead._ Bran would appreciate being appreciated.

Of course that meant Jojen would be staring at him. Gods, did he know what that did to him? He could feel those green eyes boring deep into him, not needing to memorize Bran’s features since he was already so familiar with them. Bran’s mouth went dry. Like hell would he be able to do any work while receiving a look like that.

He put his pencil in his book in lieu of a bookmark and closed it. He set it on top of his bag and turned his body to look at Jojen. He reached for Jojen’s hands. “Come here.”

Jojen scooted closer and now the air around Bran was filled with the scent of his boyfriend. He closed his eyes and just basked in it. _Hmm…_

He heard Jojen shifting and then there was the unmistakable feel of lips on his. He pressed against Jojen’s lips, the feeling of bliss only growing. Gods, kissing Jojen...it felt like everything was coming back together and actually making sense again. His nerves were warming up, his body leaning closer to Jojen, craving to be closer.

Jojen’s fingers were tangling in his hair, drowning in the softness. Jojen’s other hand was at Bran’s neck, his thumb was stroking his jaw. Jojen kissed him deeper, his lips parting and his teeth gently biting at Bran’s bottom lip.

Bran felt his stomach clench in a good way. His breathing hitched as he welcomed Jojen’s tongue into his mouth. Jojen took lead in the kiss this time and Bran liked it. His tongue swirled around his and licked at the roof of his mouth. He sucked on Bran’s bottom lip, biting it as he pulled away.

He liked teeth. The harsh bites felt good. Along with the occasional hair pulling from Jojen.

“Ahh,” that was his first moan. A beginning to the end. It was likely that Jojen was going to get a ton more out of him by how things were going.

Jojen moved his hands to Bran’s waist now, pressing his body closer to him. Bran wrapped his arms around his shoulders and dragged him down with him. His mouth opened in another soft grunt as their bodies were even closer now. He loved feeling the heat come off Jojen’s body and warm him up and how his lips felt on his neck. There were places Jojen kissed that left him breathing harder and letting out breathless whimpers.

“Mm,” Jojen moaned softly into Bran’s neck. Bran always liked hearing Jojen make sounds like that. Bran thought he sounded really fucking hot like that.

But that was as far as it went.

Bran wanted to get Jojen out of his green sweater and everything else, taste the sweat on his skin and feel Jojen’s bare skin with his own hands for real. But they were in the bookstore, laying on the ground between the graphic novels and manga, and they probably shouldn’t be making out there in the first place let alone fool around.

That didn’t stop Jojen from pulling down a section in Bran’s shirt and sucking a red mark into his collarbone before pulling away completely.

They both looked disheveled as they parted, but Bran was smiling it off. Jojen was hovering over him with a smug smile on his face, looking _devilishly_ handsome like that. “I think we might need a better spot to do this.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Jojen teased, glancing behind his shoulder as a middle aged woman passed their row, giving them both disapproving looks.

Bran playfully hit Jojen’s thigh and laughed. “Shut up.”

Jojen explained that the Bookstore--seeing that it was really named that, Bran kind of hated the place--was really only open when if there was someone to work it. So now that someone was here regularly they didn’t get to be alone as much. Bran was starting to think it was time to go to each others houses--but, no, definitely not his.

Nope. Nope. Nope. His mother could _not_ find about this in any way. Not until they had time to be together alone. It wasn’t like Jojen didn’t know all sorts of _horrendous_ things about his family, but Bran didn’t know how his mother would take finding out he was dating a boy. He wasn’t ready to come out to his mother yet.

He knew Sansa and Arya knew about them. They knew about them before even he did. And everyone of their friends sort of knew too. They didn’t shout it from the rooftops but it was the way they looked at each other and how Bran was so easy to smile at the blond, ignoring everyone else. They were practically inseparable.

Gendry and Jojen instantly got along, but, like Bran, didn’t really talk to Hot Pie and Lommy. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them really, it was just that Lommy was _really_ annoying and Hot Pie was just too fucking awkward. They were more Arya’s friends than theirs anyway. They didn’t seem to care either. Lommy just mumbled, “I knew it,” to Hot Pie and Hot Pie just shrugged and that was that.

But of course there were those douche bags that had shit to say. Like a certain Joffrey Baratheon and his loser friends, Boros and Meryn. It was Friday, when they came down for lunch, when the first time the word “fag” was heard sneered across the table.

Bran had felt his stomach drop because he knew it was only a matter of time for shit to gradually hit the fan. The conversations dropped and uneasy glances were shared. At the corner of his eye, Bran saw Jojen’s jaw clench. He was glaring at Joffrey, too. He hated that swarmy little jerk. Ever since he came around in Sansa’s life Bran knew he was the worst possible thing on the planet. Joffrey never had anything good to say and he never did anything good. He was the type of person that would never change, living to be rotten and no one would do anything about it.

“You want to say that again?” Jojen asked, startling probably everyone at the table, including Joffrey, by speaking up.

Bran had turned to look at Jojen in awe and saw that he was giving Joffrey a look no one should be on the receiving end of. It was like his eyes had turned to green ice. But Bran didn't care that Joffrey was under that unnerving stare; it actually made him proud to be Jojen's boyfriend.

Joffrey sat up, parting his lips and scoffing like this whole thing wasn’t worth his time. “You guys are fags, right?”

“And what the hell does it have to do with you?” Jojen’s voice was cold steel.

“Nothing! I wouldn’t want anything to do with something so disgusting.” Joffrey sneered, his voice reaching a new level of nastiness.

Gods, Bran fucking hated him. He wanted to shove the table into him and watch him land on his face. He hoped he would fall into a pencil and bleed out, choking on his own blood.

“Joffrey, shut the fuck up!” Arya snapped, fixing a hard Stark glare at the blond. Bran was immensely glad to have a sister like her.

Now Joffrey’s attention was at Arya. He glanced at his two constant companions before he looked at her and said, “You should hold your tongue, you wouldn’t want to get cut out of your head, would you?”

“I’ll have you bleeding out your neck before your dumbass guards can touch me,” Arya threatened, holding the plastic fork in her hand harder. She was tense like she was about to jump and stab him for real.

Jojen gently touched Arya’s arm. “Thank you, Arya, but don’t fight our battles for us.” He never stopped glaring at Joffrey. “You can call us fags and queers all you want, but I swear if I see you looking at my ass one more time I might start thinking you’re just like us.”

Bran had to look away before he started laughing. Leave it to Jojen to say something like that. Joffrey looked so offended by being called gay and under all his amusement of his boyfriend’s tactics, he felt so angry.

Joffrey sputtered, red with anger. “That’s a lie! I would never--”

“But you have! I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And Bran can attest that I see everything.” Jojen winked at him. “And I totally saw you ogling my ass the other day. And I see through your act. You’re just afraid that your friends here won’t accept you for being who you really are. A flaming homosexual. But Joffrey,” he reached out as if about to grab his hand. “It’s okay to leave the closet...we all do one day.”

Joffrey's red face reddened even more. Bran wasn't sure if what Jojen had said was true, but it shut Joffrey up. He stalked off with his loser friends, grumbling words like degenerates and sword swallowers.

Bran laughed at that now but at the time he was uber pissed. "Jojen, I have to ask, but does Joffrey really look at your butt?"

The blond boy smirked. "Oh yeah, I wasn't lying about that. Little twat stares at my ass all through gym. But I understand, my ass does look good in sweatpants."

Bran's nose wrinkled when he made an annoyed face. "I don't like that. Your butt is only for my eyes." _My eyes, my hands, anything else I want to touch it with. Mine._

Jojen grabbed his face and pulled him into a hot kiss, not seeming to care that both Bran’s sisters and their friends were watching. "Don't worry, my ass is yours to do as you please,” he whispered against his lips.

Bran laughed, turning pink at his cheeks from both embarrassment and Jojen’s words. "Don't tempt me."

"But what if I want to." Jojen smirked, leaning in to kiss him again.

And now Bran felt hot again, like remembering Jojen's words struck a match and lit a fire inside him. He pulled the blond back down and kissed him. His lips parted and his tongue came to lick Jojen’s bottom lip. Their tongues brushed against each other, and Bran heard a _pathetic_ whimper come out of him. He tangled his fingers in Jojen’s hair while his other hand went down to rest on Jojen’s firm butt. He was waiting to do that all day.

But because the world hates him and likes to see him suffer--

"Ahem!”

Reluctantly they parted, giving each other mutual looks of _oh my gods I hate everyone why can’t people just let us make out in peace_ and turned to look at Daario Naharis a.k.a. the biggest cock block of the year, who was standing there and giving them both disapproving looks.

What’s with the disapproving looks today? Damn...

“Hey...are you guys just going to sit here and make out or...I don’t know, do some work around here?" He nodded in the direction of the cart stacked with books that needed to be reshelved.

"It’s my day off,” Jojen said.

Daario snorted and leaned against the shelf. "So you want to spend your day off, at work, making out with your boyfriend. Where you have little to no privacy here _and_ I have perfect view of you two on the cameras."

Bran's eyes widened. He glared at Jojen. Why didn't he tell him that Daario could see them? He worked here too, he knew where the cameras were and weren’t. Bran wasn't mad, just extremely embarrassed. Not only did Jojen have to see how horribly awkward he was but Daario and whoever the fuck else too. He wasn’t mature enough for all that.

Jojen sighed, looking up at the camera that was pointed at them in the corner. "Good point. Did you enjoy the show?"

The blue haired teen rolled his eyes and flipped him off. "No, jackass. Hey, are you working tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Jojen answered, looking a bit suspicious. "Why?"

Daario smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Nothing weird, I swear. But...I got that date." Although his typical bad boy smirk was in place, his cheeks were a bit pink and his eyes were filled with satisfying happiness.

Jojen's face lit up with a smile and Bran smiled at him because Jojen had no idea how charming he looked just then. "Dany said yes? Man, that's great!"

Daario looked smug, but Bran could see that the tips of his ears were pink. "After two years she finally said yes. I mean, I get it, especially after what happened between her and Drogo." His smug expression was replaced with downcast eyes.

Jojen nodded in understanding but Bran was totally confused. He only knew Daario because he worked with Jojen and he sometimes saw his blue hair in the halls, but that was it. He had no clue who Dany and Drogo were.

"Well, you know you can't bring her here. This is our spot to make out." Jojen put his arm around Bran, grinning like an idiot.

"Tch, dude, I know that. And I don't want you-know-who to get any ideas..." he gave the door at the back of the store a dirty look.

Jojen nodded. "Right."

Bran was confused on so many levels but Jojen gave him this _we'll talk later_ look so he just stayed quiet and invisible.

"Anyway, we're leaving. No more free shows for you today." Jojen smirked.

“Whatever, man. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye Bran.”

“Bye,” he mumbled awkwardly and watched as Daario walked away, back to his post behind the counter.

Jojen helped him get into his chair, which he really hated. He didn’t like how useless he felt all the time, unable to do practically anything for himself. Not being able to tie his own shoe or reach for a cup in the cupboard. It sometimes made him feel sick just thinking about it. But he never complained out loud. Who would want to hear that? Jojen would get sick of hearing him bitching and it wasn’t like they could do anything about it. He didn’t want to push Jojen away over something like that. He never heard Jojen complain but that didn’t mean the blond probably didn’t think about it too.

And now the usual feeling of doubt crept in. It always happened like this. And it always made him feel like a horrible person. He knew he shouldn’t think that Jojen would resent him for being a cripple but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if Jojen wished Bran was normal. He knew he did all the time. He just hated having to make Jojen be restricted from doing normal couple things with him because he was the way he was.

Suddenly Jojen was kneeling in front of him, giving him a concerned look. “You’re doing it again, Bran.”

Bran frowned. “Doing what?”

Jojen poked him in the middle of his forehead. “Thinking about your disability. Stop it.”

“How did you know that?”

“Don’t you know by now, Bran? I know everything.”

“Bullshit. You don’t know everything.”

“Try me.”

“Jon’s favorite color?”

“Blue and silver. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“When will it rain next?”

“In two days, at noon.”

Bran raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m holding you to that.”

Jojen smiled but didn’t respond to that. He gently kissed Bran’s forehead, where it wrinkled from his frowning. “I love you, Bran. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re in a wheelchair, it really doesn’t. Do you really think that something like that would ever make me love you any less?”

Bran couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. He loved hearing Jojen say he loved him; it made his Inner Girl squirm with delight. He leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now,” Jojen turned the engine on. “Where to?”

“Hmm…” Bran pretended to think about it but he really knew where he wanted to go this whole time. “how's your place sound?"


End file.
